HM, MD
by Sophia Hawkins
Summary: During a routine trip to bust him out of the V.A., Face found out Murdock was scheduled to have a lobotomy. Confirming that Murdock's files just got crossed with another patient's was the easy part; but when he finds out the other patient is also named Murdock, then things start to get complicated.
1. Chapter 1

H.M., M.D.

Face whistled to himself as he looked at his reflection in the mirror and made sure every hair was in place and that everything was straightened out perfectly on his doctor's uniform. He doubted that the staff at the V.A. really paid much attention to those little details, still it wouldn't hurt, especially if he managed to get a date with one of the young nurses working there. Last minute check test, make sure he had everything: mask, gloves, stethoscope, little black bag, and some forged documents necessary to get Murdock released to his care, check.

There was no mission this time, they weren't in a race to get Murdock out of the hospital ASAP, it was just decided by Hannibal, of course, that it was time they got Murdock out on leave for the weekend so the four of them could get together and have some fun. B.A. would insist they'd have a better time without Murdock, of course, but Face knew the sergeant better than that. The truth was no matter how annoying Murdock could be, and Face knew only too well from bunking with him over the years how annoying he could get, he always livened things up for all of them. He didn't know what Murdock's new obsession or persona or psychosis would be, but he was sure it would be one they'd never seen before; Murdock rarely enjoyed repeating himself for some reason.

On a bright side, Face noted, they wouldn't have to be cooped up with Murdock inside for the whole weekend; the sun was out, the sky was clear, if things got too stuffy around Murdock when he went off on one of his latest obsessions, either they could step outside for some air, or B.A. could pick Murdock up and toss him into the outside pool at the new house Face had managed to scam for them. Of course there was never any truly _ideal_ time to get Murdock, but when it rained was among the worst, especially if it stormed because Murdock wasn't above trying to make them all paranoid about escaped killers or ghosts in the closet or even haunted toasters or something like that. If only he could find a way to put that television set in Murdock's room out of commission, he was watching too many old haunted house movies.

He got in his car and drove up to the V.A. and whistled to himself as he walked up to the building's entrance. Mentally he rehearsed one more time what he was going to say, he'd gone through so many routines getting Murdock out over the years that he was starting to watch to make sure he didn't repeat himself.

Coming to an abrupt stop at the front desk, he dropped his black bag as if it was a workman's toolbox and said to the registration nurse, "Good morning, I'm Dr. Lawrence Wilcox and I'm here to see a patient, one Captain H.M. Murdock."

The young woman looked at him curiously and asked, "What do you wish to see Mr. Murdock about?"

"He is one of a handful of patients who have been selected for a new study approved by the government. We are attempting to study the brain of war torn Veterans while they are still alive instead of waiting for them to be willed to science. A dead brain is no good in attempting to find cures for live patients, and it's to my understanding that Captain Murdock is a most peculiar case all his own, possibly a whole case study all his own."

"I'll have to clear this with another nurse, just one moment," the woman said as she got up from her desk and went to find one of the older nurses.

Face hummed to himself and drummed his fingers on the desk top as he waited, a moment later a big fat bossy woman he had personally come to refer to affectionately as 'Nurse Dragon' whenever she wasn't around, came up to see what was going on. He spun his yarn again and this time made sure to really sell it since everything had to be cleared by this woman. He couldn't count his blessings enough that this woman, who had seen him off and on for so many years, hadn't yet put the pieces together as to the running joke in this hospital.

"Mr. Murdock is in room 104 in the psychiatric wing, I'll show you the way," she said to him.

"That will be fine, nurse," Face said, "Incidentally, it is of a large interest between my colleagues and myself…in this hospital do you refer to all patients as Mr.?"

"Yes, we don't have any women here," the nurse told him.

"So noted," Face rolled his eyes, "But what I was referring to is why are these men addressed by gender formality titles, and not rank? Murdock _was_ a Captain in the services."

"_Was_ is correct, Doctor," the nurse said, "Not anymore, none of these men are the soldiers they were."

"Their treatment received by their families, their government and their whole country isn't bad enough, now they must be stripped of what little dignity they have left by those overseeing their care in this hospital?" Face asked, enjoying every moment of it while he got to watch the woman squirm in trying to answer that one, "It's no wonder they have so much trouble adapting to life back from the battlefield, they go over to serve their country, and come back to be treated like a chewed up piece of bubble gum on the bottom of your shoe."

"We all have our orders to follow in this life, Doctor," the nurse told him, "Those are _our_ orders on how to treat the patients."

"It is to my understanding that Captain Murdock is one of your more unique patients, is that correct?" Face asked as they neared room 104.

"That's the understatement of the year," the nurse snorted.

Face pulled the mask up and said, "You'll have to excuse me, some of the hospitals we've been picking up the men for the test studies from have been having _horrible_ epidemics, as a physician I can't see taking anymore chances than we already do in our everyday lives."

Their conversation was cut off by a sudden commotion coming from Murdock's room. Face couldn't make out what it was but it sounded like one of those old cartoons where several people spin around in a cyclone and every few seconds pull out a chainsaw or a sledgehammer or dynamite as a new accompanying noise joined the mixture. He and the nurse ran and through the window in the door he could see Murdock standing on his dresser hovering over two orderlies and a nurse who were trying to restrain him. He screamed and kicked at them and knocked over anything within his reach and jumped out of the way again. Face threw the door open and stormed in and demanded to know, "What in the _world_ is going on in here?"

Though his mask was drawn up on his face, there was no mistaking him, and Murdock momentarily forgot the cover and jumped on Face and begged him, "Don't let them take me! I didn't do anything!"

Face managed to pry Murdock's hands off of him and repeated, "What is going on around here?"

Everybody tried talking at once so Face had to tell them all to shut up, and ordered them to explain one at a time. The other nurse explained that Mr. Murdock was being examined to make sure he was in good condition for his procedure tomorrow. Face felt his eyebrows knit together and he asked, "What procedure?"

"Mr. Murdock has been scheduled to have a lobotomy tomorrow," the younger nurse told him.

"A _what_?!" Face felt his blood beginning to boil and he was ready to shoot through the roof.

"Tell them I don't need it," Murdock said as he got behind Face and used him for a shield, "Tell them I didn't do anything, doc, tell them!"

"Nurse!" Face said in a tone that would make him perfect as a commanding officer, "Could I see Captain Murdock's form?"

"Yes, Doctor."

The dragon nurse followed her out to make sure that there were no mix-ups, leaving the four men in the room. Face turned to the two orderlies in the room and told them, "Get out!" Since he was the one in the white coat, nobody was going to question his word for it, and the two men quickly left the room.

"Don't let them do it, Face," Murdock murmured into his ear, "Don't let them do it to me, please."

"Murdock, calm down," Face said quietly, assuredly, "I'm going to get to the bottom of this. Did they say anything?"

"They just came in and told me I was scheduled for surgery tomorrow," Murdock told him, "They wouldn't say why, but they don't go around taking out half your brain just for the hell of it. At least I hope they don't...you don't think they do, do you, Facey?"

Face sucked in a deep breath and stood tall when the two nurses returned and handed him the paperwork for the surgery. Face scrutinized over every word on the form, and pushed Murdock back when he sensed the pilot reading over his shoulder, and he felt his eyes widen when he spotted the smoking gun.

"Nurse," he said in his authoritative tone, "This form is for an M.D. Murdock, _not_ H.M. Murdock."

"What?" the dragon nurse asked and took it back from him and read it over for herself, "Oh for heaven's sake…"

"You have more than one patient named Murdock in this hospital?" Face asked.

"Yeah," she answered, "M.D. Murdock is a new patient, just got transferred here…I'm terribly sorry about this, Mr. Murdock."

"Oh that's alright," he replied as he came out from behind Face, "Just don't let it happen again. Don't be a stranger now, y'hear?"

"Doctor," the dragon lady said as she looked over the form in her hand and tried to figure out which to take care of first, "I'm going to get the paperwork taken care of for Mr. Murdock's release, and then we'll tend to our new patient, I'm terribly sorry about the mix-up."

"Well you should be," Face told her, "For crying out loud this is supposed to be a professionally run hospital, are you trying to give the public the impression that it's the _patients_ running this place into a madhouse instead?"

He hollered down the hall a little more even once the nurse had left, and then when they were alone, he turned to Murdock and said, "That was weird."

Murdock let out a shaky exhale of relief and said, "Thanks, Faceman, that was a close call."

"Murdock," Face said as he peeled off his mask, "Who's M.D. Murdock?"

The pilot shrugged and said, "I don't know, I didn't know there was another me in this hospital."

"Murdock," Face thought of something, "If _he's_ due for a lobotomy, doesn't that mean he's _also_ a mental patient here?"

"Well it's not written in stone but that _is_ the general idea," Murdock told him.

"Alright, tell me something else, is there anyway you can find out who this guy is before we leave?" Face asked.

"Sure, just give me a minute and hang close by," he answered.

"Alright," Face said helplessly, what else could go wrong?

Murdock asked around with some of the neighboring patients and when he got an answer, he led Face down the corridor to the patients' recreation room where ideally they could watch TV and play cards and write letters to their families on the outside, but more realistically they ate the cards and tried wearing the TV antenna and just sat around babbling to themselves.

"How're we going to know which one he is?" Face asked.

Murdock pointed to someone in the middle of the room and said, "There he is, I don't know him."

They went over to the man who looked about 10 years younger than Murdock, had a head full of short dark hair, was dressed in blue jeans and a dirty white T-shirt and whose head kept drooping for a few seconds before he jerked awake again, though his eyes didn't open all the way or even halfway anymore.

"M.D. Murdock?" Face asked.

The young man didn't answer to his name, didn't acknowledge hearing or seeing anybody standing right in front of him, he only rolled his neck from one side to the next and said in a shaky voice, "Can't sleep, they'll kill me…can't sleep, they'll kill me."

"No wonder this guy's having a lobotomy tomorrow," Face commented.

Murdock knelt down to look up at the man and he looked back to Face and told him, "Facey, something's wrong here."

"What is it?" Face asked.

"Something's wrong with this guy alright, but it's not psychotics, or psychoses, or medication, or his own delusions…now I know, I've seen these guys every day, I know what those all look like, this ain't that, this is plain fear. I don't think this guy belongs here."

"Well if he doesn't belong here," Face said to the pilot, "Why _is_ he here?"

The gears were already turning in his head because he knew they didn't have much time, and he was right. A few seconds later he heard Mrs. Dragon's voice booming off the walls as she found them and demanded to know what they were doing there.

Face pulled his mask up on his face again and turned around to face the nurse and asked her, "Is this M.D. Murdock?"

"Yes that's him," she answered, "Why?"

"Hold off on that surgery," Face told her, "I need to know how long this man has been a patient in this hospital."

"Only for the last couple of weeks."

"Well put him in a private room and keep him there," Face instructed her, "It's too soon to tell but I think some of my colleagues will be paying this hospital a visit to see this man. Don't say a word of it to anybody, it's a matter of National Security."

"I don't understand," the nurse said.

Face kept to himself the comment that there was a statement she ought to have tattooed on her forehead. Instead he told her that if the information fell into the wrong hands, millions of people's lives could be at stake. After that it didn't take much to shut her up and get Murdock out of there.

* * *

Once Face got Murdock out of the V.A., they went back to the house he was using for the time being; Hannibal and B.A. were already there waiting for them. As soon as they got in the house, they bombarded Hannibal with the details of what happened when Face went to the hospital to retrieve Murdock. Both the colonel and the sergeant looked as confused by this story as Face knew he and Murdock both felt.

"A lobotomy?" Hannibal repeated in disbelief, "They still do those?"

"Apparently," Face answered, "I thought they quit doing them 10 years ago, but I guess we were wrong."

"Colonel," Murdock said, speaking up for the first time since they'd gotten in the house, "I want to hire the A-Team to get M.D. Murdock out of the hospital. Now, I've been there long enough to know when something's right and this ain't right, something's up and I think we need to find out what it is and we have to do it fast before they take out half this guy's brain tomorrow."

Hannibal considered it for a moment before responding, "I'm inclined to agree with you, Captain."

"So exactly what _are_ we going to do, Hannibal?" Face asked.

Hannibal scratched his head and asked them, "Do you know anything about this guy?"

"Yeah, a little," Face answered snappily, "Like for one thing, Murdock's right and this guy doesn't belong in the V.A. Once we left I made a few phone calls and did some checking, there is no record of _any_ M.D. Murdock serving in _any_ branch of the military, so how does he qualify for Veterans Administrative care?"

"How indeed?" Hannibal agreed, he turned to the sergeant and asked, "What do you think, B.A.?"

"Sounds like something's wrong alright, but what are _we_ going to do with another Murdock? What if this one's as bad as the crazy fool we' already stuck with?"

Hannibal looked back to the pilot and said, "That's a good point, what're the chances that this guy could be a relative of yours?"

Murdock shrugged and said, "It beats me, Hannibal, but if it is I'd be honored to have him in my company."

"Great, but _how_ are we going to get him out of there?" Face asked, "They're operating on him first thing in the morning."

Hannibal chuckled as he took out a new cigar and lit it, "Fear not, Face, as usual, I've got a plan."

"Alright," Face waited a few seconds and asked him, "How about now? Is _now_ a good time to be afraid?"

Murdock turned his attention from the conversation in the living room, to the skyward view right outside the sliding glass doors. The sun was gone and the blue of the sky was now covered by a building cluster of gray clouds.

"I sense a storm coming," he commented, speaking in more than just the meteorological sense.

* * *

Hannibal's plans were always a little farfetched when looked at at face value; they always required the most absurd props and equipment, but this one, for all the sense that it actually made, _still_ struck Face as being one of the oddest ones yet. The list of things Hannibal needed to pull off this plan involved another doctor's coat, a change of clothes, a false ID badge, a movie makeup kit, a dark wig and matching fake mustache to go nicely with his new skin tone, as well as a suiting change of clothes for B.A. and an ambulance ready to go. He'd already explained his plan to Face twice, and while it sounded as logical as any of Hannibal's plans could, and would coincide nicely with the window of opportunity he had left open upon exiting the V.A. with Murdock, he still had a bad feeling in the pit of his stomach that something wasn't going to go right.

Of course he would've felt better going back to the hospital with Hannibal himself but he knew that wasn't a possibility; now, he had to stay home with Murdock while Hannibal and B.A. went to investigate at the hospital. As he watched them drive off, he happened to look up and noticed that the sky was gradually getting darker; and if he listened closely enough, he would almost swear he could hear thunder in the distance.

"Bad weather on the way, Faceman," Murdock said as he walked outside to join the lieutenant.

"Think it's a sign?" Face asked.

"Don't know."

Face looked at Murdock and asked him, "Do you really think this guy could be a relative of yours?"

"I wouldn't give much for those chances, but I'm hoping," Murdock replied, "It would be nice to have somebody in the family around again…" he stopped, and thought about something, and started laughing.

"What's so funny?" Face asked.

"M.D. Murdock," he said, "Maybe it's backwards and he's really a doctor."

"Why would a doctor be a patient?" Face asked him.

"Oh you'd be surprised how many of the doctors at the V.A. come up hospitalized all the time," Murdock told him, "They're always having to be sedated or put on bed rest, or something."

Face thought about it and said, "I guess dealing with crazy people all day would do that to you."

"You have no idea," Murdock said as he took his cap off and scratched the top of his head, "You'd be surprised how many doctors I've been to see who shot themselves either right after their first session or right before the second session with me."

Face tried to be reassuring as he said, "I'm sure that's just a coincidence, Murdock."

"So how long do you think they'll be gone?" Murdock asked.

"With Hannibal's plan at work?" Face asked as he looked skyward again, "Who knows?"

Murdock looked at him and asked, "What do you want to do in the meantime till they get back?"

Face checked his wristwatch and asked, "How about we get lunch?"

"Alright," Murdock followed him back to the house, and then asked, "Oh, did you remember to get those pickled pigs feet I told you about for my new recipe?"

"Uh…the market was fresh out," Face told him.

"Oh drat," Murdock snapped his fingers, "I suppose it'll be back to green olive and jelly sandwiches then."

Face got a pained look on his face and said to the pilot, "None for me, thanks."

"But you know something I wonder, Face?" Murdock asked as he walked up the steps, "Since this other Murdock isn't a Veteran, what's he doing in a Veterans hospital? Now that's the $500,000 question."

"That's the million dollar question, Murdock," Face told him.

"I know," Murdock said as he held the door open for Face, "But I'm counting it _after_ the taxes."

Face cocked his head to the side and said, "Good point."


	2. Chapter 2

"I don't like this, Hannibal," B.A. said as he drove them to the hospital in an ambulance that Face had managed to scam for them.

"Don't like what, B.A.?" Hannibal asked as he straightened out his wig and made sure his mustache was straight.

"Why did _I_ have to be the one coming out here with you?"

"Because they already saw Face, they'd know something was up if he came back," Hannibal answered, "I told you that already."

"I know, but I ain't no actor," B.A. told him, "You and Faceman are good at conning people, you know what to say to them."

"Don't worry," Hannibal replied, "If all goes according to plan, you shouldn't have to do more than just standing around and being your usual charming self."

B.A. turned his head slowly to glare at Hannibal and growled at him.

"That's the look," Hannibal said with a smirk as he bit down on his cigar.

"So what'chu think's going on?" B.A. asked.

"That we won't know until we get there," Hannibal said, "Now you just man the gurney and let me do all the talking."

"What do you think I was planning on doing?" B.A. responded.

Hannibal stuck his head out the passenger window and looked up at the dark sky. Those clouds that had moved in earlier in the morning looked like they were settled in place now, and they spanned out as far as the eye could see. He also noticed how some of them had a greenish tint to them and appeared to be lumpy like a bunch of marshmallows. Hail clouds, he noted. He also noticed the chill in the air now as the wind blew hard, and he told B.A., "Storm's coming."

"That's what Murdock said back at the house," B.A. glared over at him again and asked, "You two reading each other's minds now?"

"I don't have to, I can feel it," Hannibal told him as he pulled his head back in through the window, "Let's see if we can get in and get out with Mr. Murdock before the storm hits. I've got a feeling it's going to be a bad one."

B.A. slowly nodded and kept his eyes on the road ahead. As they neared the V.A., he told Hannibal, "I don't like this. Something about this place…"

"Oh come now, B.A., you've been out here before," Hannibal told him, "Even though it usually _is_ Face making the trip to bust Murdock out."

B.A. shook his head, "Ain't so bad when it's daylight and the sun's out, then the place looks normal, for a crazy hospital, but like this…don't like it, Hannibal, don't like it one bit."

Hannibal looked up ahead and agreed, "Yeah I know what you mean…kind of like entering a cemetery." He couldn't explain what it was, but there was something about the place that under the right circumstances, when the atmosphere was just right, it set a bad feeling in his bones to come out here. He knew that other mental hospitals had cemeteries in the back to bury their patients that nobody claimed, but as far as he knew, everybody who was at the V.A. had somebody to collect upon expiration. He'd been in the back yard of the hospital and knew, or at least _thought_ since he never saw any tombstones, that nobody was buried there, not _this_ decade anyway. Still he wondered, and he also wondered if Murdock ever had the same thoughts; his were probably worse because he actually lived there, and would have a better idea what actually happened to the patients who left the hospital carried out. He pushed the thought from his mind for the time being, and he looked over at the sergeant and joked, "Guess it's a good thing we didn't bring Murdock with us, he'd probably start rambling on about zombies coming out of the ground and eating us."

"Don't start, Hannibal," B.A. warned him.

Hannibal chuckled lightly as he clamped down on his cigar again.

* * *

Hannibal pushed through the front doors of the hospital and entered with an air of authority about him as he stood tall and intimidating to the staff who saw him; like Rambo just out of medical school. He was dressed in a doctor's coat with a mask hanging around his neck and short surgical gloves on his hands, his bushy wig was almost pitch dark, as was his mustache, his skin had been touched up to a shade tanner than he was, but instead of looking like he'd been bronzing himself in the sun, he looked like a tumbleweed. Behind him, B.A. stepped heavily, his size 14 clod hoppers practically leaving dents in the floor, he was dressed in an extra large set of green scrubs including a cap covering his Mohawk, and a white mask pulled up over his nose and mouth.

Hannibal was able to recognize the dragon nurse from Face's description and he strode over to her and just as soon as she was able to ask who he was and what he wanted, he stared her down and demanded to know, "Where is he? _Where_ is M.D. Murdock?"

"Who are you?" the nurse repeated.

"My name is Doctor Streiner, I'm here on official government business, I demand to know where M.D. Murdock is."

"Whatever for?" she asked.

Hannibal didn't wait for her to show him the way and instead stomped off towards the direction of the psychiatric wing, with B.A. following behind him and the nurse running alongside him.

"Our colleague Dr. Wilcox got in touch with us this morning, he _was_ here this morning wasn't he? He told you to keep Mr. Murdock in a private room until further notice?"

"Yes he did, but I still don't understand what this is all about," she told him.

"This goes beyond National Security, lady," Hannibal told her, "We are talking about an epidemic that will make the Spanish Flu of '18 look like a head cold."

"What!?" she asked.

Hannibal stopped in the middle of the otherwise empty hallway and quietly explained to the woman, "If word of this leaks out to anybody, if the government finds out about this error, then within a week there will be no record of _any_ of us ever having existed, do you understand? Now Mr. Murdock was exposed to a new strain of disease before he was transferred here, a _manmade_ strain that is being developed to up our nation's idea of biological germ warfare when it comes time for our country to enter war with the foreign nations again. When it is perfected, one infected person will be able to spread it to and effectively kill off 500,000 people within a week's time." He watched the shocked look on the woman's face and understood perfectly the pleasure Face got out of running these people through this wringer every few weeks, "Now, we don't know yet that Mr. Murdock has been infected, if he _has_ then we have to study his vitals and find a way to cure it before anybody in Uncle Sam's quarters finds out about this mishap. If he has not, then once we finish running our tests we will gladly return him to you, but we _must_ act fast, so where is he?"

"Right down here, Doctor," the nurse said as she ran on ahead of him.

"What condition is he currently in?" Hannibal asked.

The nurse opened the door and he stepped in and saw the young man laying on the cot bed, all but unconscious but still through some unspoken will he was still rambling on, though less coherently now.

"Is this man in shock?" Hannibal asked as he pulled the patient up into a sitting position and lifted his eyelids.

"No, Doctor, he's sedated," the nurse answered.

"SEDATED!?" Hannibal exploded as he turned back towards her, "Good Lord you _sedated_ this man?"

"Yes!" she answered sharply, "He hadn't slept in a week!"

"Well of _course_ he hadn't!" Hannibal told her, "This new disease that our patriots down in Washington have conjured up attacks the body during its rest cycle, the only way to survive and fight it off _is_ to stay awake." He pushed one eyelid up again and said directly into the man's ear, "Mr. Murdock, can you hear me? My name is Doctor Streiner, my assistant and I are going to relocate you to our laboratory, if you can hear me, make some signal that you understand."

B.A. backed out of the room and rushed back in pushing a gurney. Hannibal continued to yell into the man's ear as he pulled him up and got him to his feet long enough to move him over to the gurney where he and B.A. got him on and strapped down and then wheeled him out of the room, down the hall, out to the entrance lobby, and out the automatic doors to the ambulance in the parking lot.

"Mr. Murdock, can you hear me?" he repeated as they got him in the ambulance. Still no response, though he wasn't totally unconscious yet. Hannibal got in the back with him and closed the door, B.A. went around to the front, started it up and got them out of there.

"Have to admit, Hannibal, that was one of your _craziest_ plans yet," B.A. told him.

"What's the matter?" Hannibal asked as he peeled off his disguise, "You don't think the government could come up with a disease like that?" He forced one of the man's eyelids open again and said to him, "Mr. Murdock, if you can hear me, you're out of danger now."

The young man let out an exhausted groan and collapsed against the gurney, _now_ he was unconscious.

"Got any ideas about it, Hannibal?" B.A. asked.

"Not yet," Hannibal shook his head, "Hopefully when our friend wakes up he'll be able to answer some of our questions, but if what they said is right and he _hasn't_ slept in a week…"

"Why would he do that, Hannibal?" B.A. asked.

Hannibal thought back and said, "Face said he kept muttering something about 'they' were going to kill him, but who's 'they'?"

A disturbing thought came to B.A.'s mind and he said, "Maybe the lobotomy was just a cover…if he suddenly turned up dead couldn't they just say something went wrong during surgery?"

Hannibal thought about it and slowly nodded, "It's definitely possible."

The colonel felt every muscle in his body tense when he heard the BOOM overhead. He looked up, feeling a pins and needles sensation in the back of his neck, and he told B.A., "Storm's here."

B.A. turned the windshield wipers on as a sudden downpour bombarded the ambulance, and he just continued to shake his head and said, "Don't like it, Hannibal, I don't like it."

* * *

Murdock stood by the window and watched the rain pour down and he asked the lieutenant behind him on the couch, "Face, you think Hannibal and the big guy are gonna be alright?"

"Come on, Murdock, B.A.'s driven in worse weather than this, he can drive in anything, he can _drive_ anything," Face told him, "He's to vehicles like you are to airplanes."

Murdock shook his head and said, "Naw, I don't mean that, Facey, I mean you think they got out of the hospital alright? You don't think they had any problems, do you? I mean they've been gone a long time."

"Hannibal knows what he's doing, Murdock," Face tried to be reassuring, "Just calm down."

Murdock shook his head and said, "I don't know, Face, I got a bad feeling about this."

"Murdock," Face said, "You know what they say about a watched pot never boiling? Well staring out that window isn't going to get Hannibal and B.A. back here any faster, so why don't you just sit down and relax? They'll be here soon enough."

Murdock nervously clasped his hands together and nodded as he turned away from the window, one particularly large clap of thunder shook the house and sent Murdock sprinting right behind the couch, practically knocking Face off of it in the process.

"Murdock, are you alright?" Face asked.

Murdock popped his head up over the back cushions, but only from the nose up like a dog, and said, "Sure, Face, why do you ask?"

"Oh…no reason," Face responded.

Of course he could imagine why Murdock was acting so jittery. His only saving grace was that Hannibal had wanted the pilot around for a little down time together. Of course Face imagined Murdock would've telephoned and told them what was going on after he'd been informed about the next day's surgery, _if_ he'd been able to. As wild as he was acting, Face knew if he hadn't stepped in, if they had caught Murdock, they probably would've sedated _him_ too and then nobody would've known what was going on. He was starting to get that stabbing feeling of anxiety in the base of his skull all the way down his back too. That was one _hell_ of a close call, what if Hannibal hadn't…no, no, he pushed that thought from his mind. What mattered was that Hannibal _had_ said to get him, he _had_ gone, he _had_ gotten Murdock out of there, and now he was safe.

"Murdock," Face said, feeling the catch in his throat as he spoke, "Why don't you come around here and sit down?"

Murdock inched his face up higher and detected the uneasiness in the lieutenant's voice and said, "Sure, Face…what's the matter, are you nervous?"

"Uh…yeah…a little I guess," Face said.

"Okay," Murdock swung his legs over the back and dropped right down on the cushion next to Face and sympathetically patted his shoulder, "That better, Facey?"

Face sucked in a shallow breath and said, "Yeah, thanks, Murdock."

Murdock sensed that Face was wound up tight about something and though he didn't know what it was, he reached over and draped his arm over Face's shoulders to let the lieutenant know that he was there, and that between the two of them they could work out a solution.

"Anything good on TV?" Murdock asked as he picked up the remote and flipped through the channels.

"Not really."

"You want to get lunch?" Murdock asked as he turned the TV off and tossed the remote down.

"We already had lunch," Face reminded him.

Murdock thought again and said, "How about we get dinner then?"

Face turned to him with that familiar small, on-the-edge-of-cracking smile whenever he tried his damnedest to maintain a straight face at Murdocks' antics, but always failing miserably, "We just ate," he reminded the pilot.

Murdock huffed and swung one foot back and forth like a clock pendulum at his last idea being shot down.

"Well Hannibal and B.A. better get back soon or this is going to be a very _boring_ afternoon," Murdock told him.

A short while later, they saw the ambulance pull up out front and they ran out to see what was going on. They got out in time to see Hannibal carrying M.D. Murdock slung over his shoulder as he often did with B.A. when they were getting ready to board a plane. By now they had both discarded their hospital garb and were back to looking like perfectly normal lowlifes of downtown L.A, and as well as they could with Hannibal carrying the man, hurrying to get in out of the rain.

"How'd it go, Colonel?" Murdock asked.

"What happened?" was Face's question.

"Everything's fine, everything went according to plan," Hannibal grunted as he got in the front door with his passenger in tow, "Aside from the fact that they took the courtesy to sedate our friend before we had a chance to talk with him. Murdock, the nurse says he hasn't slept in a week, are you _sure_ you've never seen this guy before?"

Murdock shook his head, "I never even heard about a new arrival."

"Well two weeks there, how new can he really be?" Face asked as they followed Hannibal into the living room as he dumped their guest on the couch. Hannibal looked down at the unconscious man and grabbed the blanket off the couch's top and draped it over him.

"Alright, now just wait a minute," B.A. said, now that he had everybody's attention, "Murdock knows every inch of that crazy hospital, so _how_ is it he's never seen this other guy before?"

Hannibal and Face looked at each other and considered the possibilities.

"Isolation?" Face asked.

"Maybe he was a regular patient initially and only recently got transferred to the psychiatric wing," Hannibal guessed, and he told the others, "I examined him on the way here, he's got some old bruising, looks like somebody beat him up a while back."

Murdock dropped down on his knees next to the couch and looked at the young man who was blissfully unconscious and oblivious to his new surroundings.

"He doesn't look like you, Murdock," Face told him.

Murdock made a face at him and said, "You really know how to hurt a guy." He stroked his hand over the man's forehead and smoothed back his hair and said, "You never know, he could be a distant cousin of mine."

"Ain't distant enough," B.A. told him, "He still found you, fool."

Murdock took one of M.D.'s clammy hands in his and rubbed over the cool flesh and told the unconscious man, "Don't you pay no 'tention to him, cous, he just likes being an angry mudsucker."

B.A. growled at him, but Hannibal quickly put an end to that and told the others, "I don't know how long our new friend is going to be asleep, but right now I'd say it's vital that he gets as much rest as is possible, and that means everybody _be quiet_ and don't disturb him."

Murdock nodded slightly and said quietly, "Got it, Colonel," and zipped his lips.

Hannibal turned to Face and B.A. and told them, "You too."

Face also made a gesture of zipping his mouth shut and putting the key in his pocket, B.A. just looked at Hannibal with his usual 'why me?' scowl every time he thought one of Hannibal's plans was crazy. Hannibal looked down at their new houseguest and said quietly, "Well Mr. Murdock, you just bought yourself a stay of execution, now it's just a matter of seeing what we can do with it."


	3. Chapter 3

As the afternoon passed and the A-Team waited for their guest to wake up, they tried passing the time quietly, all the while outside the storm continued to rage on. Murdock knocked the others for a loop by being surprisingly good, he opted to sit on the floor by the couch and stay near M.D. Murdock so they'd know when he woke up, and passed the time by playing a game of solitaire on the floor. It was a bit unnerving but as Face left the room, he turned back and was relieved to watch as Murdock snatched his cards back from an imaginary second player. He went into the kitchen where Hannibal and B.A. were and asked, "Well how long as we going to tiptoe around here before we just wake him up?"

"Face, if we're going to find out what happened, we need him to be as lucid as possible, and after 7 days without any sleep, lucidity we are _not_ going to get if he doesn't get some sleep first, you know that," Hannibal told him.

"Alright, but what do we do in the meantime?" Face asked, "We can't watch TV, we can't talk, we can't do _anything_ we normally would or it might wake up Sleeping Beauty in there."

"Murdock's watching him now," Hannibal said, "I have a feeling once Mr. Murdock wakes up, none of us are going to be getting much sleep so I suggest we rest _now_ while we wait."

"Yeah…I guess so," Face hesitantly replied. He wasn't going to admit it but he was just a little uneasy about having _another_ mental patient in their home; this one he didn't even know, there was no telling what he'd do, if he'd get violent, and if he did if Murdock would be able to restrain him. He went into the living room and quietly asked Murdock, "You gonna be okay watching him for a while?"

Murdock answered by making an 'ok' signal with his hand before resuming his card game. Face nodded and, a bit reluctantly, left the room to go upstairs and lie down for a while.

* * *

One hour turned to two, multiplied into four, and it was going on dinner time and their guest still hadn't shown any signs of coming to anytime soon. Murdock had started to nod off himself when he heard the man on the couch grunting and groaning. He opened his eyes and tilted his head back to see what was going on; M.D. had gotten tangled up in the blanket and was trying to get out and, still in the realm of sleep, he got out a very coherent, "Get me out of this straitjacket!"

"I like this guy," Murdock said as he got up and shook M.D.'s shoulder to rouse him, "Come on new buddy, wake up!"

The man shot up on the couch screaming, then when he realized he was awake, he gasped for breath as he looked around at his new surroundings. When he turned to Murdock, the pilot waved his hand and said, "Hi there." The man screamed again, Murdock made a face at him and said, "Well that's a fine how-do-you-do."

The others heard the screaming and came running, they knew the moment of truth had arrived now. The other Murdock wrangled his way out of the blanket and was practically perched on the back couch cushions like a vulture as the other four men crowded in on him. Murdock took it upon himself to be the voice of reasoning and told the others to back off.

"What's going on?" the man asked them.

"Mr. Murdock," Hannibal said as he put his hands up to show they didn't mean any harm, "Try to calm down, we're here to help."

The young man standing on the couch looked at the four of them like a wild beast looking for a way out, he shifted his eyes from one person to another, and asked them, "Who are you?"

"I'm Hannibal Smith, this," Hannibal pointed to the others, "Is B.A. Baracus, Templeton Peck, and that's H.M. Murdock, an esteemed alumni at your residence, the V.A. hospital."

M.D. Murdock seemed to calm down at that and he looked at the pilot questioningly and asked, "Murdock?"

"That's right," Hannibal said, "You're probably familiar with him, he's been one of the star residents there for 10 years."

He shook his head and said, "I heard a little _of_ him but I never saw him, I…" he looked around again and realized he wasn't in the hospital and asked them again, "What's going on here? Where am I?"

"Well right now you're in our summer home," Face explained, "Would you mind getting off the furniture?"

M.D. Murdock looked down and realized what Face meant, so he stepped down from the couch and said to them, "I don't get this…what do you want with me?"

"Well I'd like to say it's very simple," Hannibal told him, "But _that_ is going to depend largely on what you can tell us."

"Yeah, like first of all, what's your name?" Face asked.

"M.D. Murdock," he answered.

"No, your full name," Face told him.

"That _is_ my full name," he explained, "My mother had an…offbeat sense of humor, decided to just give me a set of initials for a name."

Face turned to Murdock and said, "Maybe you two _are_ related."

"Alright…Mister Murdock, were you aware that the hospital had you scheduled for an operation tomorrow morning?" Hannibal asked.

He snorted and said, "Not an operation, a _lobotomy_!"

"Do you know why?" Hannibal asked.

"No," he shook his head, "Why?"

"We were hoping _you_ could tell _us_ that," Face said.

"Oh," he sat down on the couch and said, "I'm sorry I can't help you with that, but the truth is I really don't know anything."

"Alright, how about this one," Hannibal said, "Why were you in the V.A. in the first place? We checked, there's no record of you belonging in the military anywhere."

"That's because I never served," M.D. told him as he rubbed his head like he had a migraine.

"Then _why_ were you in the hospital?" Face asked.

"I don't know," M.D. told them, "I didn't even know what hospital it was, they transferred me there from another one, moved me in during the night when it was dark, I couldn't tell where we were going."

"Murdock," Hannibal looked to the pilot, "Is that standard protocol for bringing in new patients?"

"Not as I know, Colonel," Murdock answered, "Can I ask some questions now?"

"Go ahead," Hannibal told him.

Murdock went over to M.D. and asked him, "So what's your case? Schizophrenia, multiple personality disorder, manic depressiveness, paranoia, kleptomania, post traumatic stress, pyromania, delusional disorder, or how about exhibitionism?"

"_Huh_?" B.A. asked.

"That's a term for people who like walking around with no clothes on, B.A.," Face explained.

"I _know_ what it means, sucker," he replied.

"I don't know what you're talking about," M.D. said, "I'm _not_ insane."

"Now _don't_ be that way, cous," Murdock said as he put his arms around the notably uncomfortable man, "The first step to recovery is admitting you have a problem, besides," he leaned over and said into the man's ear, "People who say they're not insane generally are."

"Well I'm not," M.D. told him as he shrugged out of Murdock's grasp, "I already told them all of that, I told everybody, but nobody would listen."

"What do you mean?" Hannibal asked.

M.D. looked at him and said, "I was locked up in a mental hospital two years ago, I _told_ the doctors there, I told _everybody_ at the time it happened that I wasn't insane, but nobody believed me."

"Well I believe you," Murdock told him, "You're not fun enough to be insane."

"Don't mind him, Mr. Murdock," Hannibal said, "He's always this way."

"But I still don't understand, where am I?" M.D. asked, "Why am I here?"

"Well that's a little harder to explain," Face told him, "You see…_your_ file got mixed up with Murdock's and they were going to give _him_ the lobotomy, when we got that mess straightened out, we got curious about there being another patient in the hospital with his name."

He looked at them with wide, unbelieving eyes and asked, "And you got me out? How?"

"It wasn't easy," Hannibal answered, "Believe me."

Hannibal knew that they weren't going to get anywhere unless they confided the truth in him, so he took it upon himself to break the news, "You see, Mr. Murdock, _we_ are the A-Team, and," he pointed to Murdock, "This is our pilot. We break him out of the hospital whenever we need him to fly us somewhere for a mission, that's how Face happened to be at the hospital today to find out all of this stuff."

M.D.'s eyes widened in disbelief and he repeated, "You're the A-Team? I don't believe it."

"Why not?" Murdock asked, "You've never seen any of us before, you can't say that you're surprised."

M.D. looked at them and opened his mouth to say something, then thought better of it and closed it again.

"You're the A-Team?" he said again, and laughed nervously, "Go figure." He looked to Murdock and asked, "Is he _really_ insane?"

"We think so," Hannibal said.

"Uh-huh," M.D. said dryly, "And you trust him to fly you guys?"

"Well just because he's insane doesn't mean he doesn't know what he's doing," Face pointed out.

"That's right," Murdock said with a sharp nod, "They may have taken my pilot's license but I can still get _any_ bird in the air."

"You should," B.A. told him as he rolled his eyes, "You' a dodo yourself, fool."

"Don't pay too much attention to them, Mr. Murdock," Hannibal said, "Where they come from that's just small talk."

"Uh, just call me Mad Dog," he replied, "That's what all my friends used to call me."

"How come?" Face asked.

He shrugged and said, "Just did, and then it stuck."

"Huh…" Face turned to Murdock and said, "Howling Mad and Mad Dog, that's a hell of a combination, Murdock."

"I'll say," Murdock agreed, "This ought to be great." He went over to Mad Dog and asked Hannibal, "Can't we keep him, Colonel?"

"Murdock, he's not a puppy," Hannibal reminded him, "In any case you have Billy for that." Murdock opened his mouth to respond but Hannibal cut him off and shook his head, "No no, Mr. Murdock here has his own family to take him back as soon as we can figure out why he was in the hospital."

Mad Dog snorted and said, "That's what you think."

"What's that mean?" Face asked.

"My mom died when I was 18, and I never knew my father," he told them, "No brothers or sisters, no aunts or uncles, and my grandparents died when I was a kid, I got nobody looking for me, believe me."

This seemed to make Murdock hopeful again and he tried asking Hannibal again, but once more the colonel shook his head and said, "Sorry, Murdock, it just wouldn't work."

"Well you don't know," Murdock wasn't ready to give up, "He could still be my cousin, he could be a long lost cousin or first cousin twice removed, or something like that."

"What's he talking about?" Mad Dog asked.

"Nothing," Face tried to assure him, "Just his usual crazy talk, you learn to tune it out after a while."

"Alright, Mad Dog," Hannibal said, "You say you're not insane, the hospital said you were, if you weren't _why_ were you put in there? Especially seeing as how you yourself pointed out, you have no family to commit you?"

Mad Dog looked down at the floor and told him, "It's a long story."

Hannibal turned to Face and said, "I _told_ you we wouldn't be getting any sleep tonight."

Face only nodded in response and rolled his eyes.

"Can I ask you guys a question?" Mad Dog asked, "It's not that I _don't_ trust you guys, but…"

"You don't trust us," Face finished the sentence for him.

"Well I'm just wondering how I'm supposed to _know_ that I can," he said, "After the two years I've had, I find it hard to put anything past anybody in the way of what they're capable of doing."

"Well it's a fair point," Hannibal concurred, "Unfortunately the only answer I can come up with is that you don't have any choice."

"I suppose I don't," Mad Dog responded, "But what do you want with me?"

"If possible, if what you say is true," Hannibal told him, "We'd like to try and help you."

"I doubt you could," Mad Dog said, "I doubt anybody can help me."

"Well calm down, cousin, no need to get all testy just yet," Murdock told him as he grabbed the man's arm to get his attention, "Let us try, now come on, what's going on? How did you wind up in the padded room hotel?"

Mad Dog turned to him and retorted, "How did _you_?"

"That's an even longer story," Murdock told him.

"Mister Murdock," Hannibal spoke up, "Perhaps you could at least tell us, who beat you up? How did you get those bruises under your shirt?"

Mad Dog lifted up the hem of his T-shirt and saw the yellow marks Hannibal had been referring to.

"I got in a fight," he sheepishly answered as he lowered his shirt, "Well actually I was just attacked, by half a dozen orderlies and doctors."

"They restrain you?" Hannibal asked.

"Sometimes," he answered, "Sometimes they tie me to the bed, other times they just put me in a straitjacket."

"Did you ever do _anything_ to warrant that treatment?" Hannibal asked, "Did you _ever_ get violent with them first?"

"Me? Get violent with those nuts? Are you crazy?" Mad Dog asked.

"No, _I'm_ crazy," Murdock told him.

Something occurred to Mad Dog and he said, "Wait a minute…if you broke me _out_ of the hospital, then they're going to be looking for me, aren't they?"

"Not with the story we gave them," Hannibal shook his head.

"Are you sure?" Mad Dog asked.

"Positive," Hannibal nodded.

Mad Dog let out a long exhale and looked like he was about to collapse.

"Alright, now let's try and figure this out," Hannibal said as he bit down on a new cigar and lit it, "Why would the doctors at the V.A. suddenly come up with the idea to perform a lobotomy on you, somebody who had only been there two weeks?"

They all tried putting their heads together on that one to come up with some answer. Unfortunately Mad Dog couldn't think of any reason why, and since he couldn't it was a cinch nobody else could come up with a good enough reason to justify cutting a man's head open and taking out part of his brain. They all stood in the middle of the living room trying to come up with a possibility, when an idea seemed to hit Murdock. Out of nowhere he started yelping 'ooh! Ooh! Ooh! Ooh!' with his hand in the air and hopping around, shifting his weight from one foot to the other.

"Murdock," Face said dryly, not in the mood for Murdock's antics, "You _know_ where the bathroom is."

Murdock stopped hopping around and punched Face in the back in response to his comment and said, "_No_, Face, I've got it, I've got it."

"What?" Face asked.

"Cat on a Hot Tin Roof."

Face turned and exploded, "_What?!_"

"No no no, I got that wrong," Murdock said, "But I'm close…Hannibal," he went over to the colonel and said, "Hannibal, you remember that old movie where Elizabeth Taylor's aunt is trying to have a lobotomy performed on her?"

"I don't think that's quite right, Murdock," Hannibal said, "But yes, I remember, why? What's that got to do with anything?"

Murdock had the floor now, and he rolled with it as he explained, "The aunt tried to have the procedure done to _shut her up_, so nobody would find out the horrible secret that she told everybody and nobody believed. The aunt was worried sooner or later somebody _would_ believe and ordered the lobotomy to silence her. What if that's the same thing going on here?"

Hannibal and the others looked back to their guest and asked, "How 'bout it, Mad Dog? Is there any reason anybody would want to have you silenced?"

"Sure, why not?" Mad Dog replied flatly, "We all got enemies, right?"

"I'm serious," Hannibal told him, "You said you told them you weren't insane and they didn't listen, if you're not, then _why_ were you in the hospital in the first place?"

"Like I said, it's a long story," he responded, "In any case, why would _you_ believe me? Nobody else has."

"Well we're not everybody else," Face reminded him, "We're the good guys, and we always believe the people nobody else will."

"Yeah well…I doubt you could believe this one," Mad Dog told them as he sat down again, "And I doubt that you could help me either."

"So let us try," Hannibal said, "If we fail, what've you got to lose?"

"My life maybe," he said.

"No, cous, we won't let that happen," Murdock said as he sat down on the arm of the couch by him, "We won't let anybody get their grimy paws on you again."

Mad Dog looked from Murdock, to Hannibal and told him with a shake of his head, "It ain't gonna be easy to explain."

"We've got time," Hannibal assured him.

Mad Dog's eyes widened and he shot up from the couch again and said suddenly, "Wait a minute, what about Frankie?"

"Who's Frankie?" Face asked.

"If I'm going to explain this to you, Frankie's got to be here too so you get the whole story," Mad Dog told them.

"Alright, calm down," Face told him, "We'll find Frankie…uh, who _is_ Frankie?"

"She's my girlfriend, or was," Mad Dog answered.

Face turned to Murdock and asked, "That's a woman's name?"

"Alright," Hannibal said, "We'll get Frankie, where does she live?"

Mad Dog covered his mouth with his hand and looked like he was going to be sick.

"Where is she?" Hannibal asked.

"In the hospital," he answered.

"That can't be," Face shook his head and he explained to the others, "There aren't any women at the V.A., the nurse told me as much."

"Not the V.A. hospital," Mad Dog told him, "She's in the Freemont Psychiatric Hospital here in Los Angeles."

Face glanced over at Hannibal uncertainly and said, "I've heard of that place, it's relatively new…but what's she doing there?"

"Please, you've just got to get her out, she can tell you why," Mad Dog said, "She's not insane either."

"Huh," Hannibal said, "Seems to be an epidemic. Alright, we'll go over there, check it out, and find a way to get her out. What's her full name?"

"Frankie Lynn Murdock," Mad Dog answered.

Everybody did a double take and glared back at him.

"Seems to be an epidemic of that too," Face murmured to Hannibal, then he raised his voice and said, "Another Murdock? Just like you?"

"No, her name is Murdock with a K, I'm Murdoch with an H," Mad Dog told them.

"This just gets crazier and crazier," B.A. said disgustedly.

"Yeah, don't you just love it?" Murdock asked.

"No I don't, sucker!" B.A. told him.

"You don't really mean she's called Frankie, you mean her full name is Francis Lynn, right?" Face asked.

Mad Dog shook his head, "Frankie, that's the name she was born with."

Face turned to Hannibal and asked him, "Does _everybody's_ mother have a sense of humor when they name their kids?"

"Mine didn't," Hannibal answered with a shake of his head, "Just plain old John Smith, you can't get much duller than that."


	4. Chapter 4

"Look," Hannibal said as he turned his wrist and showed the others his watch to make his point, "It's too late in the night to go over to Freemont Psychiatric Ward and bust Frankie Lynn Murdock out tonight, we're going to have to wait until tomorrow when we can get in there and find out what room she's in. I have an idea that she will keep until then." He turned back to Mad Dog and added, "Unless you know something we don't know."

"No," Mad Dog shook his head, "I haven't heard from Frankie in two months since she got committed."

"Well maybe you can help explain this to us," Face suggested, "Exactly _how_ do a bunch of 'sane' people wind up getting institutionalized in the fruitcake factory?"

"I can't explain it," Mad Dog said, "I don't know."

"Well how did you get there?" Murdock asked.

"I told you, you won't get it until you hear the whole story and to do that we need to get Frankie here, she can tell you more than I can."

"Normally we don't go by somebody's word alone when we don't even _have_ the word," Hannibal told him, "However since this is a rather pressing matter, we're willing to make an exception. For the night, you'll stay here, you can bunk with Murdock in his room, I think that would be the best decision for everybody."

Mad Dog glanced over at Murdock whose eyes had lit up like a jack-o-lantern and he had a grin to match, and Mad Dog wondered what he had gotten himself into.

"Hannibal, are you sure this is a good idea?" Face asked as he followed Hannibal to the stairwell in the hall.

"Would you rather have him staying with you?" Hannibal asked.

"We don't know anything about this guy, what if he's dangerous? What if he tries to kill Murdock in the night?" Face asked.

"That's why we're going to take turns standing guard outside the door," Hannibal explained, "You take the first watch, B.A. gets the next shift, and I keep an ear open until dawn. It's as simple as that."

"Oh, simple as that, eh?" Face replied mockingly.

"Face, it'll be fine, trust me."

"Trust you, every time I hear that I always wind up regretting it," Face said.

"_You_ might, but Murdock doesn't," Hannibal told him.

"Hannibal," Face said, "Murdock can look on the bright side of a plane crash."

* * *

Murdock had been thrilled to have a roommate for the night. Hannibal advised him not to keep the slumber party going too late since they had work to do first thing in the morning. Once they'd gone off to their separate rooms for the night, Murdock had lent Mad Dog a spare set of his pajamas for something clean to change into for the night. He got an idea that tonight was the first time in a _very_ long time that the young man had had a good hot meal and a hot shower.

To hear Mad Dog talk, he hadn't been restrained excessively while he was locked up but wherever he'd been kept _before_ the V.A. had been more like a prison than the hospital Murdock was staying at. He was just as curious as everyone else to find out what was going on and get to the bottom of it, but he believed Mad Dog when he said they had to find Frankie to get the whole story. It would be like him trying to single handedly explain how the A-Team came to be a gang of wanted fugitives, when he hadn't even been there for the most part. Sure, he could explain part of it, and it would make _some_ sense, but to fully understand it would have to come from the men who had actually been there to tell about it.

When Mad Dog came back in from the bathroom, he looked very different; indeed it would appear this was the first time in quite a while that the young man had been able to get cleaned up. Murdock wondered how he had ever come to be at the V.A., and how nobody had noticed what was going on.

Mad Dog looked around the room as if he was expecting something to jump out at him, and he turned to Murdock and asked, "You sure this is alright?"

"Oh sure, it'll be fine," Murdock answered as he went to unmake the bed for them, "I just love having a roommate. You know they tend to frown on that kind of stuff when you're in a hospital for some reason."

Mad Dog looked around the room as if he was trying to find something to fixate on, and coming up empty he looked back to the pilot and told him, "I don't know what to say…I mean I _really_ don't know what to say."

"Well that's alright, I imagine there'll be _plenty_ to talk about tomorrow once we get your girlfriend here," Murdock said, "So what's she like? Is she a lively one?"

"Well…she used to be, anymore, I don't know," Mad Dog answered. He saw Murdock reaching for the knob on the lamp and he grabbed the pilot's hand and said, "Listen…uh…can the lights stay on?"

"Oh sure, hey look," Murdock pointed over to the window where he had taken the liberty of stringing up a set of plastic luau lights with pineapples and palm trees and plugged them in and turned off the main light, "How's that?"

"Terrific," Mad Dog answered.

He went over to the bed and climbed in on the opposite side from Murdock, both men yanked the covers up high and went through a whole process of tossing, turning, flipping, and doing everything to the pillows short of kneading them like bread, to get comfortable.

"Boy this is _nice_," Mad Dog said as he settled back against the mattress and pillows.

"Yeah, it sure beats the beds they give us at the hospital, don't it?" Murdock asked.

"Mm-hmm," Mad Dog hummed in his throat as he relaxed.

Murdock half sat up and reached over and stroked over Mad Dog's forehead and smoothed back his damp hair.

"How old are you, M.D.?" he asked.

"Twenty…five," he answered.

Murdock nodded knowingly, "Time tends to get away from ya in the mental hospital, I know, many's a time I have to take out my driver's license to make sure I'm still thirty…twenty…five-six-seven-eight…oh well, doesn't matter."

Mad Dog seemed to be holding his breath, when Murdock didn't say anything further, he exhaled and closed his eyes.

"I hope Frankie's alright," he said.

"Did she come to see you in the hospital before _she_ got locked up?" Murdock asked.

He nodded, "Yeah, got in trouble for it, they caught her staying the night once, fight broke out, I was sure that we were both going to be killed."

"They let her back in after that?" Murdock asked.

"A few times, but she was watched after that, we both were…and then she got put away and I haven't seen her since," Mad Dog explained.

"Well, if all goes according to plan, we ought to all be seeing her tomorrow," Murdock assured him.

"What plan?"

"I don't know, that's Hannibal's specialty, but he _always_ has a plan, and they're usually brilliant."

* * *

"Horrible thing, suicide," Hannibal told the nurses at the Freemont Psychiatric Hospital the next morning.

He had gone this time dressed as a police officer and hadn't found any trouble in convincing the staff that he was just that. Of course it didn't hurt any that most of the staff he'd encountered so far were a bunch of young women who looked like they barely graduated from nursing school.

He continued speaking to the nurses, "Of course we can't officially rule it one way or the other until the county coroner gets back with his report, but it seems a pretty open and shut case. We've got his gun, his prints on it, his hand covered in nitrate, an entry wound indicating that he was shot at damn close range, and a note, don't get much simpler than that except if we had it on videotape. All the same, my superiors want me to run down every possible lead and make sure we leave no stone unturned. In his note he mentioned a woman named Frankie Lynn Murdock, said that he must make amends for the horrible wrong he'd done to her two years ago. Either of you ladies have any idea just what that may be?"

"I'm sorry, officer, but we don't know anything about that," one of the nurses, a timid young woman who had trouble looking him in the eye, said as she instead gazed down at her white shoes.

"Well you _do_ have a patient in this hospital by that name, don't you?" Hannibal asked in an accusatory tone.

"Yes, but she's only been here for a couple of months," another nurse answered.

"Well I don't care how long she's been here, it's crucial to my investigation that I talk to this woman, to find out if there's anything behind the suicide note."

The two young women looked at each other and the first one looked back to him and said, "I'm sorry, officer, but we can't bring her to you, the doctor gave specific orders that she remain on bed rest."

"Well then you take me up to see her," Hannibal told them, "Otherwise I'm going to have to run both of you in for obstructing my investigation. Now I don't _want_ to, but that happens to be the law, so please make it easier for all of us and tell me where I can find her."

The second one kept her eyes down on the records on the desk and said, "She's up on the third floor, room 318."

"I'm sure I can find it myself, thank you ladies," Hannibal said smugly as he walked off towards the elevator.

Hannibal got in an empty elevator car and pressed the third floor. When the doors opened up he stepped out and looked left and right at the numbers on the doors as he passed. He came to room 318 and slowly opened the door; the nurses had said Frankie was on bedrest, but what did that prove? For all he knew that woman would come swinging at him like Tarzan or Sabu the Jungle Boy, or maybe he was just too used to Murdock's antics from over the years, but why take any chances?

"Miss Murdock?" he called out as he pushed the door open and looked in.

He needn't have been so careful. The woman in the room was indeed in bed; _handcuffed_ by one wrist to the metal railing of the bed. Hannibal stepped in, closed the door behind him and went over to the bed to get a better look at her. She was young, maybe 22, she had thin blonde hair that looked like it had been cropped off recently, her skin was a touch pale, she looked like she hadn't had any direct exposure to sunlight for a month, she was thin but not quite gaunt, and she was knocked out cold.

"Miss Murdock," he said a bit louder as he pressed his hand against her shoulder and shook her to try rousing her.

But he knew there was no waking her up anytime soon, and there would be no getting any answers out of her for quite a while. He took his walkie talkie out of his police belt, hiding in plain sight he'd had to laugh, and got on it to tell the others, "I found her…she's drugged up right now so she won't be talking."

B.A.'s booming voice came back on the radio, "So what'll we do now, Hannibal?"

"We'll go ahead with the plan as scheduled," Hannibal replied, then turned the walkie talkie off. He stood over the young woman and watched her in her drug induced sleep. He stroked his hand over the top of her head and said quietly, "We'll be seeing you tonight, Frankie." Then he turned to the door and walked out.

Once the elevator opened on the ground floor again, he spotted one of the nurses and demanded to know, "Why didn't you tell me that she is sedated?"

"I can answer that," a doctor said as he came up to them, "Miss Murdock is under _my_ care and she has been sedated for her own protection."

"Protection?" Hannibal scoffed, "How much damage could she cause?"

"She's chained to that bed for a reason, _officer_," the doctor said condescendingly.

Ooh what Hannibal wouldn't give to use his government manufactured virus strain line on _this_ guy. Still he remained his usual calm, slow burning self and replied, "Well I don't care a frog's behind for your reasons, doc, she's a key witness in my investigation and I _will_ be back to interview her, you have her awake and alert when I come in tomorrow at 10 o' clock sharp."

"That's impo…"

"_10 o' clock_ sharp, doc, or I'll have you thrown in jail for interfering with my investigation. Good day."

* * *

"I'd sure like to know how Hannibal comes up with these ideas of his," Face said as he adjusted his orderly uniform.

"As long as they work that's all that matters," B.A. told him.

Face nodded weakly, "I suppose so, but this is just getting a little too cartoony for my liking."

They moved quickly and quietly and made their way in through the back entrance of the hospital and blended in with the other workers. They found a large laundry cart with some fresh towels and sheets in it and B.A. pushed it while Face went on ahead and dictated which rooms they went to.

When Hannibal had gotten back earlier that day, he'd given them the entire layout of the hospital as well as he'd been able to make it. He'd done a good job of a two bit hick cop who found it very easy to get lost around the hospital and it had gotten him brief access to the staff quarters, the laundry room, and the back exit purely for emergencies and only for the personnel of the hospital.

They wheeled the cart into the elevator, went up to the second floor, got off, made a few phony rounds, delivering towels and sheets into patients' rooms, all for show, and then wheeled the cart back into the elevator and went up to the third floor.

"I hope we don't regret this," Face murmured, more to himself than to B.A.

"Hey Face, this' the only way we' gonna find out what's going on," B.A. told him.

"Alright then, I hope _I_ don't regret this," he amended his previous statement.

"I just hope it don't turn out this lady related to Murdock," B.A. told him, It's already bad enough we' getting stuck with three of them, but for two of them to be family, that's worse."

"Oh come on, B.A., look on the bright side, if she _is_ Murdock's family then he might hang over her and leave you alone," Face suggested.

The doors opened on the third floor and they got out and pushed their way along through the hall and came to room 318. They both went in and closed the door behind them, kept the lights off and taking a penlight out of his pocket, Face went over to the bed and shone it on the woman asleep in the bed.

"That's her alright, just as Hannibal described, here B.A., hold this," Face said as he handed his light to the sergeant.

B.A. held the light steady as Face took a lock pick out of his pocket and used it on the handcuffs. After a few seconds the cuff sprang open. "Just like taking candy from a baby," Face said as he pocketed his pick and freed Frankie's wrist, "Ooh boy that's nice and red. Come on, B.A., help me."

B.A. went over to the bed and together they lifted her up and into the laundry cart and covered her up with a pile of towels and sheets.

"We're halfway home," Face told B.A., "Now we just have to get out of here the same way."

They pushed the cart and left the room and headed back towards the elevator. They took it down to the ground floor and without drawing any attention to themselves, made their way to the laundry room; it was empty as this time of night so nobody was around to watch as they fished Frankie out of the cart and slipped a set of scrubs on over her pajamas.

"Are you sure this is gonna work, Face?" B.A. asked.

"I think so," he replied as he wrestled the unconscious woman into a pair of green pants, "Just uh…let me borrow one of your chains, okay?"

"My chains? What for?" B.A. asked.

"I've got an idea," Face said, not sounding as convincing as he felt, which wasn't much better.

When he finished, they left the laundry room and appeared to anybody who saw them to be three colleagues leaving together for the night. Face stood on one side of Frankie and helped hold her up as they walked, and on the other side, B.A.'s massive frame concealed the fact that Frankie was half strung up like a marionette puppet; Face had tied one of B.A.'s chains around her wrist to look like a bracelet, and looped it over so B.A. held onto the other end and tugged on it to keep her other arm up so it looked like she was a normal, conscious person walking out of the hospital with them. They reached the back entrance and made their way out into the night, and once there, B.A. picked Frankie up and they took off running for the ambulance.

"We got her, Hannibal," Face said into his radio as they took off.

"That's fine," Hannibal replied, "We'll be waiting for you."

Face groaned as he signed off and he said to B.A., "I just _know_ that we're going to regret this."

"Hey man," B.A. said, "Ain't you the one always saying to be positive?"

"I am, I'm _positive_ that we're going to regret this," Face told him.

"Hey Face," B.A. growled warningly, "Just remember, related or not, we got enough trouble already so don't be falling head over heels with this mama."

"Oh come on, B.A., give me some credit," Face replied, "Besides, she's not that good looking anyway." He glanced back at the woman in the back of the ambulance and added, "Come to think of it, how _anybody_ could find her attractive is beyond me."

* * *

Hannibal, Murdock and Mad Dog were all out in the front anxiously awaiting Face and B.A. to return. They saw the ambulance come up the street with all its lights off and saw it pull around to the back so no nosey neighbors would see anything worth inquiring about. They ran around to the back in time to see Face and B.A. get out and go around to open the back doors.

"How'd it go?" Hannibal asked.

"Off without a hitch, just like you said it would, surprisingly," Face answered.

"I told you it would," Hannibal said, "You ought to believe me by now."

"That remains to be seen, Hannibal, now come on, let's get her inside and wake her up," Face said as B.A. carried Frankie over to the back door.

With everybody trying to get inside at once it was a tight squeeze through the door, B.A. moved to the living room and laid Frankie out on the couch.

"She's cute," Murdock observed.

"Frankie!" Mad Dog couldn't believe it when he set his eyes upon her. He fell down beside the couch and grabbed her, shook her to try and wake her up.

"You won't get anywhere doing that, my friend," Hannibal said as he picked up a glass of water from the dining room table, "If you want to wake her up you'll have to be a little more direct." And he proved his point by tossing the glass of water onto the young woman.

Frankie sputtered and her eyelids flew up and she looked up and saw the four men hovering over her and she screamed and jumped up and demanded to know, "Who are you!?"

"Frankie!" Mad Dog was overcome with relief at seeing her awake and he nearly collapsed on the floor.

She turned to the man who had called her and her eyes widened in disbelief. "Murdoch!" she jumped off the couch and ran over to him and hugged him tight, "Are you alright?"

"I'm fine, Frankie, how're you?" he replied.

"How'd you get out?" she asked, then something hit her, "For that matter, how did _I_ get out?"

"Frankie," Mad Dog gestured to the others and said, "This is the A-Team."

She turned to look at the men and said, "The _what_?"

"The A-Team, Miss Murdock," Hannibal calmly replied, "That _is_ your name, isn't it?"

"Of course it's my name, but how did you know?" she wanted to know.

Over everybody talking, M.D. managed to get her introduced to the others one by one. The sound of the phone ringing broke through the garbled conversations, and Face left the room to answer it.

"Frankie," Mad Dog said, "You've got to tell the others what happened, they think that they can help us."

Frankie looked at Hannibal, Murdock and B.A. and said, "Help what?"

"Look, lady, the whole reason we busted you out of that psycho ward was because your boyfriend insisted we needed _you_ here to tell us the whole story of how _he_ came to be locked up in the V.A. hospital."

"How did you know about that?" Frankie asked.

"How do you do?" Murdock took a step towards her and shook her hand, "Howling Mad Murdock, V.A.H.P.W. class of '73."

"What?" Frankie asked with a dumbfounded look on her face.

"Veterans Administrative Hospital, Psychiatric Wing," Murdock answered, "You see…" and then everybody started talking over one another again.

Face slammed the receiver back on the hook and marched back into the living room and roared at the top of his lungs, "HANNIBAL!" and that caused the jibber-jabber to die down. When he had the colonel's attention Face said to him, "We need to talk."

"What about?"

"I did some checking on our guest here once I found out that nobody under the name M.D. Murdock served in the military, and I double checked under the revised spelling, still no results, in the military, but I did find out what started this whole mess. I just got off with a source who checked the records, it turns out that 3 years ago in Bakersfield, M.D. Murdoch was arrested for first degree murder, and an insanity defense bought him a one-way ticket to the Freemont hospital we just busted his girlfriend out of."

All eyes were on their two guests now. Hannibal looked at Mad Dog and said, "Alright, there's your other half," he pointed to Frankie, "So start explaining, and my advice to you is to talk fast."


	5. Chapter 5

"First of all let me just say that this is not going to be easy to explain," Mad Dog said as he put his hands up in a mocking surrender gesture.

Frankie didn't seem quite as concerned about the facts at hand and instead asked the A-Team, "You got any booze in the house? Because that's the _only_ way we're going to be able to get through this story." And she walked past them to find the kitchen and subsequently the liquor cabinet.

"Alright, yes, I was arrested for murder, but I didn't do it," Mad Dog told them.

"Of course not," Face dryly remarked, "Nobody ever does it."

"What about you?" Frankie asked as she reappeared with a bottle of vodka from the kitchen, "Everybody knows about the A-Team, did you really rob the Bank of Hanoi?"

"Point taken," Hannibal told her, "But if he didn't do it, then what's going on?"

"Like I said, it's a long story," Frankie undid the lid on the bottle, swallowed a swig of it and said, "Okay, 3 years ago Murdoch and I met when the local college was participating in a silent film festival."

"In Bakersfield?" Face asked.

"No," Frankie told him, "In _my_ hometown, Cranston, a _little_ place near Bakersfield, about as easy to drive through without noticing as Rhode Island. We're a little town with little to do, especially if you don't have any money, such as ourselves. When the college ran the silent film festival it was one way of getting free entertainment with a live band accompaniment. That was how we met, he was tripping over everybody's feet trying to get a seat and he fell in my lap, quite literally. After that we hit it off and we began to see quite a bit of each other. More often than not though, I wound up going to Bakersfield to see him, that's how this whole mess got started in the first place."

"We're listening," Hannibal told them.

Frankie and Mad Dog glanced at each other uncertainly, she squeezed his shoulder and took the initiative to explain and she told them, "One night when I was staying over, we fell asleep together, I woke up later and saw Murdoch standing over me, covered in blood…he said 'there's a lady downstairs, I think I killed her'. So I got up and we ran down to see what had happened."

"What did happen?" Face asked.

"There was a woman downstairs in the living room, she was dead," Frankie answered matter-of-factly as though it was a common occurrence, "She'd been stabbed I don't know how many times."

"Where was the knife?" Murdock asked.

"On the floor by her body of course and yes it had Murdoch's prints on it," Frankie told them, "We were trying to figure out what had happened when the police came. They busted into the place and dragged him out."

"Who called the police?" Hannibal asked.

"We never found out, some anonymous caller I suppose," Frankie answered bitterly, "They stormed in, grabbed Murdoch, hauled him out in handcuffs, took him to jail."

"Well it's understandable," Face said.

"Sure, except that there was a witness at the house, _me_," Frankie pointed out, "You can't do what was done to this woman without making some noise, and I've never been a heavy sleeper. There's also the fact that she was plenty bloody, but the stains on the carpeting didn't match the wounds on her body, clearly she had just been dumped there."

"And the knife?" Murdock asked.

"Murdoch was only half coherent at the time, I'm not above thinking that somebody drugged him, makes it easier to put the knife in his hands and get the blood on him," Frankie said.

"_That's_ why you wanted her here to explain," Hannibal realized as he looked at Murdoch, "Because she was the only one lucid in the house that night."

"Well now wait a minute," Face interjected, "Something's not adding up here."

"Only _something_?" Murdock asked.

Face looked at Frankie and said to her, "If you were there, why didn't you tell what you knew to the police?"

"I tried," Frankie told him, "I tried to stop them when they hauled Murdoch off, one of them beat me in the head and left me on the sidewalk while they took him away. They weren't interested in hearing _my_ side of the story for some reason."

But Hannibal knew that that wasn't the end of it, "You told his lawyer then, didn't you?"

"Yeah, I went to that shyster and I told him what I knew," Frankie recalled, "And he said that it wasn't any good, that he couldn't use any of it at trial."

"Why not?" Face asked, "He didn't believe you?"

"Oh he believed me alright," Frankie nodded, "But he said he couldn't use me."

Hannibal caught on and said, "There's something more here than you're telling us. Some reason _wh__y_ a lawyer would completely toss aside a perfectly good witness that could help clear his client. What is it?"

Frankie and Murdoch glanced at each other again, equally unsure if they should tell what it was. Finally Frankie faced the A-Team and explained, "The night that Murdoch was arrested and I was staying at his house for the night, he was 22 years old and I had just turned 17."

"That'll do it," Face said as if they were just wrapping things up, "They might be able to clear him on the murder charge with her testimony but then they go after him with a statutory charge, and that's an even surer death sentence than a murder conviction."

"That's what his shyster lawyer said," Frankie said, "Said that nobody would believe that nothing was going on between us."

"And of course it wasn't," Hannibal said, half mockingly.

"No it wasn't," Frankie told him, staring daggers at him, "And I don't care if you believe it or not."

"Well what the hell? I'll believe it," Hannibal replied, "After the last couple of days we've had, I'll almost believe anything in fact."

"You go to hell, pal," Frankie spat, "I've got no reason to lie to you, all I've ever done is tell people the truth and all it's ever gotten me is trouble, nobody wants to know what the truth is."

"Well you're in luck," Murdock told them, "Because that just happens to be our specialty, so go on. What happened?"

Frankie exhaled and some of the fight seemed to leave her, "Well anyway that's _why_ his lawyer pushed for an insanity plea, he couldn't present the evidence to clear Murdoch of a murder and he had to do something to keep him from getting convicted. Neither of us wanted that, and I told that lizard that I was going to go to the prosecution and tell _him_ what happened."

"Did you?" Hannibal asked.

"I tried," Frankie answered, "I cornered him on the courthouse steps but just as I started to talk to him, some madman comes out of nowhere and blasts him into Swiss cheese and takes off, leaving me standing there in awe with his blood splattered all over me."

"Now that is one hell of a coincidence," Face noted.

"My thoughts exactly, so once the body was hauled off, I repaid the defense attorney a visit, determined to get some answers out of him. You know how people are bound to say anything when their lives are in the balance and they know it? Well I had that lizard's neck in my hands and he was turning blue, and _still_ he insisted he didn't have anything to do with the assassination, so what could I do? I took his word for it and let him go."

"But that's not the end of it," Hannibal knew.

"No," Frankie answered, "By the time they got a new prosecutor in and got him familiar with all the evidence presented and pushed for the insanity plea, almost a year had passed from the night he was arrested. Then they just shipped him off to Freemont."

"And?" Hannibal asked.

"And," Frankie told him, "It just seemed to me that the prosecution was too happy to accept the insanity plea, I thought they were supposed to fight those tooth and nail. Of course I later found out that prosecutors are usually only too happy to take insanity pleas, it's insanity _defenses_ that they refuse."

"Ah, and there's a difference?" Face asked.

"Apparently," Frankie sighed, "Neither of us had any money that we could get another lawyer with a second opinion on the matter _or_ an appeal. So, I decided to take matters into my own hands."

"Which were?" Hannibal asked.

"I decided to see how easy it would be to get _myself_ committed to one of those crazy hospitals," Frankie said, "It seemed to me they ought to be more willing to take a less violent person than an accused murderer for the next batch in the cracker factory."

"But you weren't committed until two months ago," Murdock recalled.

"That's right," Frankie nodded, "And I had two years' worth of trying to get in there in the first place."

"Two years?" Face repeated in disbelief, "What did you do?"

"What _didn't_ I do?" Frankie replied, "I did everything I could think of to convince people that I was crazy."

"Like what for example?" Murdock asked.

"_Everything_," Frankie said, "I did all the research I could, I went to the library, read every book they had on mental disease and criminal insanity."

"You read Sybil?"

"Sure I read Sybil and Three Faces of Eve and all of those," Frankie explained, "I exhausted _every_ possibility to pass myself off as crazy. I did _everything_, nothing worked."

Her voice cracked and disappeared at the last couple of words, it was obvious that it _had_ been an exhausting ordeal for her, and largely for nothing.

"You _finally_ got committed," Hannibal noted.

"Yeah, because I about set myself on fire," Frankie told him, "I spend months creating different personalities who speak different languages and all have different handwriting, I randomly chopped my hair off during art class, I take my clothes off in a public place and jump in the water fountain, I steal cars, I steal anything I can get my hands on, I even beat up my parents after we got in a small disagreement, and me screaming bloody Russian the whole time, and nobody thinks that I could be crazy until I start drinking gasoline and lighting matches. Ooh," she groaned as she recalled, "I was never so sick in my whole life as that night, but _that_ was what finally did it, and for all the trouble I caused, all the laws I broke, it was my parents who had me committed, nothing ever went to court, nothing was ever taken before a judge or a jury, it's unbelievable!"

"Your whole story is unbelievable," Face observed.

Frankie turned back to Mad Dog and said to him, "I told you they wouldn't believe us."

"Don't get ahead of us," Hannibal warned her, "What I don't get is _why_ was Murdoch transferred to the V.A. at the same time you were committed to Freemont? And for that matter, _why_ were _either_ of you put in Freemont here? Don't they have mental hospitals where you come from?"

"Asking the wrong person, his lawyer pushed for it, I don't know why," Frankie said, "And I also don't know why or how they moved him out, I had figured once I got in there, I could help him find a way out."

"How long were you going to stay there?" Hannibal asked.

"The staff got the jump on me," she admitted, "They'd keep me doped up or tied to that bed so I couldn't do anything. I guess they didn't want any repeats of when I went there to visit with Murdoch."

"What _did_ happen anyway?" Hannibal wanted to know.

"I tried sneaking him out one night, the security guards found out," Frankie explained, "They put a stop to that _real_ quick."

"What about your parents?" Face asked, "Didn't you ever tell them what was going on?"

"They wouldn't believe me," Frankie told him, "Even if they did, they wouldn't do anything to help Murdoch, they'd only hear how old he was and condemn him for that, just like his lawyer said everybody in the courtroom would. I _did_ try telling them once, never got anywhere with that. I knew nobody was going to help us so I decided to look into the matter for myself."

"And, anything further to report?" Hannibal asked.

"Not much," Frankie confessed, "Pretty much it's just what I already told you, anything past that is beyond me."

"Alright, so let's try thinking about this logically," Face said to the others, "The police conduct a shoddy investigation and don't even come up with the basic facts which say that the woman who was murdered, _was_ murdered somewhere else and dumped at the house. Why would they do that?"

"Because they're in somebody's pocket, that's why," Frankie told him.

"Whose?" Face asked.

Frankie became very quiet at his question, saying only, "They had to be, it's the only thing that makes sense."

"Right now _nothing_ makes sense," Face replied.

"I'll second that," Murdock said, and addressing the others he added, "And you _know_ how much it takes for me to admit to something like that."

"So what do we do now, Hannibal?" Face asked.

Frankie leaned towards Mad Dog and said to him, "I told you it was a waste of time, I told you they wouldn't help us."

"Don't be too sure of that, Frankie," Hannibal told her, "No doubt it'll be an obstacle getting to the bottom of the whole thing, but I do believe it is possible."

"Alright, how?" she asked.

"That, I'm not sure of yet," he answered, "We'll start to work on it in the morning, in the meantime it's late and I'm sure everybody's tired and just wants to get some rest."

Frankie laughed and said, "Not me, two months I've been getting enough rest to kill a hippopotamus, all those pills and injections, damn sedatives and barbiturates and tranquilizers."

"Exactly what did you _do_ to those people?" Face asked.

"You name it," Frankie said, "Once I was actually in that place I figured there's no nut like a violent nut, and ooh I got them good, the staff at Freemont _definitely_ thinks I'm crazy."

"Of that I have no doubt," Hannibal told her, "However the question remains _why _once you got transferred in, your boyfriend got shipped over to Los Angeles's V.A., now Murdock has a very interesting theory about that. You insist that Murdoch couldn't have been the one to kill the woman found in his home, alright, suppose whoever did, was worried that somebody might believe his story, so they ordered the lobotomy to silence him permanently?"

"It is _definitely_ possible, Mr. Smith," Frankie said, "Unfortunately I don't know anything that we can do about it. Whoever did it is going to know Frankie's missing and then they're going to find out I'm missing, and the manhunt's going to start again."

"Well, there's no way they could find you here," Hannibal told them, "Now for tonight I suggest we don't worry about it, tomorrow we'll get a fresh start and look into the matter and see what we can come up with. In the meantime tonight there's the matter of what to do with everyone, unfortunately we only have four bedrooms."

"And you don't trust us to stay down here on the couch," Frankie said knowingly.

"I won't say that I don't trust you," Hannibal said.

"But you don't trust us," Murdoch finished for him.

"Alright, here's what we're going to do," Hannibal announced, "Face, you and Mad Dog are going to sleep in your room, and Murdock, you and Frankie can bunk together."

Murdock growled approvingly and said, "A pleasure."

"Murdoch, what did we get ourselves into?" Frankie groaned.

* * *

"I still don't see why I can't be with Murdoch tonight," Frankie said as she paced around Murdock's room.

"Hannibal just thinks that we'd all be safer if one of us was with each one of you," Murdock explained as he lined down the center of his bed with bunched up blankets.

"So why did I have to get stuck with _you_?" Frankie asked.

"Well I think it's more for Face's own good," Murdock explained, "See he's a real…he has a…he's a pig, alright? He gets within 10 feet of a woman and he loses his head."

"He tries anything with me, he'll lose more than that," Frankie told him.

"Na, Face don't work like that," he replied, "He's a conman, he can charm anybody into anything, and that includes women."

"Not me," Frankie insisted, "I haven't gone through everything I have for the last two years to toss M.D. over now."

Murdock went up to her and asked her, "Can I ask you a question? Exactly _what_ was it about this guy that you fell for him?"

"You wouldn't get it," Frankie sneered as she walked away from him.

"Never underestimate crazy people," Murdock told her, "We understand more than people are willing to give us credit for."

Frankie turned and looked back to him and said, "I'll just bet when you were my age you had a new girl on your arm every week and _every_ one of them looking like a centerfold in the making. You look at me, I've never been able to get anywhere on my looks, which is how it ought to be, but that, mixed with my own proneness towards eccentric behavior, has left me alone for most of my teenaged years. Murdoch's the first guy who ever liked me, and he did something for me that nobody else would ever do, or _could_ ever do."

"What's that?" Murdock asked.

"He made me feel smart," Frankie explained, "When you don't have your looks to fall back on you have to resort to your brains, and he was the first person in my whole life who didn't act or treat me like I was an idiot. I can't tell you how high of an honor that is, just as well because you'd never understand it."

"Well now," Murdock put his hand up to get her attention, "I wouldn't quite say that…you know when you get locked up in the mental hospital people don't tend to think you're too bright then either. They think you just sit around all day eating cardboard or yelling at the mailbox, and when you're a pilot like me, when you're the best pilot there is who can fly anything, even things that weren't meant to fly, and everybody acts like the only thing you're good for is eating grapes off the wallpaper, that doesn't do much for your pride either."

Frankie looked at him and asked, "_How_ long have you been locked up?"

"Ten years," he answered.

"How have you not killed somebody yet?" Frankie asked, "Or yourself?"

Murdock pointed to the door and said, "I'm out on leave all the time, that helps, those guys you met downstairs, they know I'm smart, they just think I'm nuts, which I am, but crazy doesn't mean stupid."

"It doesn't mean insane either," Frankie told him, "I've said it for years, I told everybody, _I_ might be crazy, but I'm _not_ insane."

"So why'd you want people to think that you were?" Murdock asked.

"Because nobody would listen to me, nobody was interested in the truth so I had to try another approach," Frankie said, "I had to find a way to make people listen and nothing worked. The defense lawyer didn't care about the truth, the cops didn't care about the truth, the prosecution got blown away before I could tell him the truth."

"Did you try the judge?" Murdock asked.

"You're not listening to me, I tried _everything_, I told _everybody_, nobody cared."

Murdock whistled and said, "Whoever this guy is, he must have deep pockets to have everybody in the justice department in them."

"Yeah," Frankie tiredly replied as she squeezed her eyes shut and balled up one hand and rested it against one closed eye. Murdock didn't miss the tear trailing down her cheek, he went over to her and put an arm around her supportively, that was the one thing that sent her over the edge. Frankie collapsed against him sobbing; the pilot had a good idea that this was the first time since M.D. had been arrested that she'd let _these_ emotions boil over instead of the relentless anger and hatred that it seemed she expressed towards everyone. He held her and patted her back comfortingly and let her carry on for a little while to finally get it out, then he spoke softly to her and said, "Hey, take it easy, Frankie, we're going to find out how to get to the bottom of this, you'll see."

"You really think so?" she asked as she pulled away from him.

"We always do," Murdock answered, "Ain't any problem come up yet we couldn't find a solution for, and believe me we've had some biggies."

"But never anything like this," Frankie said.

"No, that's true, but it's not the first time we've ever unraveled and exposed a murder either," Murdock explained, "We always find a way." He saw that she was shaking, almost convulsing and he asked her, "You cold?"

A small shiver gave him the answer, though Frankie insisted as she turned away from him, "I'll survive."

Murdock picked up one of the bunched up blankets from the bed's makeshift partition and draped it around her.

"Thanks," she sheepishly said.

Murdock kissed her on the forehead and said, "Come on, let's go to bed, we'll figure this whole thing out in the morning."

He got her tucked in on one side and went around to the other side and crawled in under the covers. After a few minutes of trying to keep a relative distance, he decided that being in a mental asylum, she'd had enough distance to last her a lifetime, so he moved over towards her side and put his arms around her. Two years without anybody she could trust, anyone she could talk to, and even worse, two months with absolutely _no_ contact with the man she loved. He remembered what Mad Dog had said about her sneaking into Freemont after visiting hours to spend the night, a conjugal visit wasn't much but it was still better than nothing. And likewise, a little platonic contact was also better than nothing.

That was something that in all his years as a mental patient and an observer of human behavior in connection to their psychological profiles, he found that many people often overlooked. Too many people focused on if it was appropriate to get close to other people, physically close, all those questions about what ifs and what was acceptable. Well, he knew too well from personal experience and observation that people who were suffering didn't give a damn about what was ethical or not, they needed to know they weren't alone, they needed to feel another person come in contact with them; that was one reason why he was what others might describe as overly affectionate with most people he came in contact with, as a patient, he didn't have any restrictions on who he could and couldn't kiss or embrace, and as a human he didn't care anyway. Such as was the case here, he knew _why_ Hannibal stuck the two of them together; Face was just liable to forget his position and to forget that Frankie was 'taken', but Murdock could comfort a woman without losing his head over her. And as reinforcement to that fact, he remembered that for all he knew, this woman could be his family, and he intended to treat her as such; that above all else cemented the decision. And Frankie didn't seem to have any objections to it either, at least not for the time being. Murdock felt his eyelids closing and he tucked the crown of Frankie's head under his chin and slowly felt both of them nod off to sleep.

Murdock woke up a short while later when he felt somebody trying to climb over him and saw that Frankie was trying to wrestle her way out from under the tangle of covers.

"What's the matter?" he asked as he pulled back the bedspread to let her out.

"I can't sleep," she said, "I'm going to go downstairs and get something to eat."

* * *

Hannibal followed the clattering noises coming from the kitchen downstairs as he made his way down the stairs in the dark. Somebody was up, he didn't know who, but he was certain that one of the prisoners had gotten out of their cells. He got his confirmation when he stood in the doorway to the lighted kitchen and saw Frankie had taken about half of the food out of the refrigerator and seemed to be making her way through a piece of fried chicken, a bologna sandwich, a jar of pickles, a large Polish sausage impaled on a fork, and a bowl of strawberry Jell-o.

"Hungry or suicidal?" he asked.

Frankie bit off another piece of the sausage and asked him, "You ever eat hospital food, Mr. Smith?"

"A few times," he answered.

"Yeah well mental hospital food is far worse, let me tell you that," Frankie said as she downed a swig of Coca-Cola, "Mr. Smith, I need to talk to someone about something."

Hannibal gave the food on the table another glance and asked, "You're not pregnant, are you?"

"Mr. Smith, I've got a problem and I need to talk to someone about it," Frankie said, her tone underlining the seriousness of the matter.

Hannibal could tell it was worse than that. "Alright, so tell me kid, what is it?"

Frankie looked at him and said, "I know who killed that woman, but I can't prove it. I never told anybody the truth about that one because I know they'd never listen, I didn't know it at first but after a few months, it just seemed to all fall into place."

Hannibal was taken aback by this revelation. "Who is it?"

"His name is Richard Masterson, he's a friend of my dad's," Frankie said.


	6. Chapter 6

"Alright, you knew that this third degree was coming," Hannibal said as he pulled out one of the chairs at the table," Sit down and explain this to me again, nice and slow."

Frankie sat down in the chair across from him and said, "I never liked Masterson, and they always knew it, but they never believed me when I said why. I first met the man when I was seven years old, my parents were having a party at the house to celebrate my father kicking off his new business, and there _he_ was. When everybody was sitting down and yapping their heads off, he tried to get me to sit on his lap, I ran away, my mother grabbed me, and took me back, and I still ran away from him. Funny how even back then I knew, no matter how many times she took me back to and told me to stay still, I wouldn't stay anywhere near him. How I knew then, I don't know."

Hannibal's brow knitted together as he tried reading through the gaps in the lines she was leaving and he asked her, "You mean he…"

Frankie shook her head, "No, not then anyway…you see, he would come by the house and visit with my father every so often, during which time I tried disappearing up to my room and just staying out of sight, and staying quiet. Seems that I spent most of my life trying to hide from people, him especially. Mom and Dad always wanted to know why I didn't like him, you can't explain it at that age, you just _know_ that you don't. Well, I found out why when I got older. Around the time I was 13, both my parents were working, so I was alone in the afternoon and also when they were out on the weekends, and that always coincided so nicely whenever Masterson would come to the house, his little unexpected visits." She laughed bitterly and said, "You know in school they're always telling kids about strangers, you know: don't take candy, don't take presents, don't get in their cars, don't talk to them, it's very funny because _nobody_ ever says what to do about people you _know_. And they're the real problem, Mr. Smith, never strangers off the street, that's too easy, predators are close to their victims because they can establish their own credibility and ruin their prey's that way."

Hannibal felt his stomach starting to turn and an acid taste in the back of his throat as he asked, "What happened?"

"The first time he came to the house when I was alone, he managed to force his way through the door, but fate intervened and my mother came home early. You never saw anybody change so quick, suddenly he was Mr. Conscientious and concerned that I was all alone in the middle of the day, just _so_ happened to be coming to see my father, completely forgot that he was out of town for the weekend, of course she bought it. After that I learned to leave the door locked whenever he tried dropping by, it didn't do any good to pretend I wasn't home, so I'd talk down to him from one of the upstairs windows. And ooh was he mad that I was able to figure that out. I tried telling them what was going on, but they wouldn't listen, they wouldn't believe me…nothing new there."

"How long did that keep up for?" Hannibal asked.

"Years!" Frankie told him, "He _never_ left me alone, so I guess I was relieved when I finally met Murdoch, I figured if I had a boyfriend around, that Masterson would take a hint and leave me alone. No such luck, and unfortunately Murdoch didn't prove to be much protection, I don't think he could beat somebody up if his life depended on it."

Hannibal felt some of the jigsaw pieces falling into place, "That's why you always went back to Bakersfield with him, instead of him coming to see you."

Frankie nodded, "I figured if I got out of town that Masterson would never find out, would never follow me…apparently I was wrong."

"And you think _he_ killed that woman?" Hannibal asked.

"Yes, think about it, Murdoch gets arrested for murder, he gets put away, because of our age differences I can't tell the police that he's innocent without incriminating him on an imaginary crime. So Mad Dog goes away for life, and where does that leave me? Back home in Cranston all alone when dear old daddy's business partner decides to come and call again. So I guess you could say I was relieved when I finally got committed, he couldn't very well explain what he'd be doing in a mental hospital to see me, now could he? Especially since I was bused to one so far away from my own hometown as you pointed out."

"Alright, so far it sounds plausible," Hannibal told her, "And I'm _not_ saying that I don't believe you, but there is _one_ thing that's not adding up here…why would Masterson spend so many years trying to get at you instead of just going after some other poor defenseless girl, who didn't have as many brains as you did?"

"That's the thing, Mr. Smith, I don't know that he didn't," Frankie answered, "For all I know every night after he failed to get into my home he probably went and snatched up some other teenaged girl and did with her what he wanted to do with me. But if he did, those girls either aren't going to know who he is, be able to recognize him, or have anybody in their corner who will believe them either, it's how men like Masterson work."

"I know, I know," Hannibal said, "But then why do this? Why resort to murdering some poor woman just to set your boyfriend up?"

"Why would Murdoch stab some random stranger to death in his living room?" Frankie replied, "That makes even less sense, it's not impossible that Masterson _knew_ the woman, that he had some grudge against her as well that he thought killing her and setting Murdoch up to take the rap for it would take care of two problems at once."

"Good point," Hannibal agreed.

"Mr. Smith, I'm sure that your crazy pilot could've told you this already, but when I was doing research for my own crazy act, I found out something in all those headshrinker books."

"What's that?" he wanted to know.

"There are personal and impersonal methods of killing people," Frankie told him, "That's something that the general public isn't very aware of, they just think that the world is full of psycho killers who will stab somebody a hundred times, or blow them full of holes, but it turns out that most of those are actually committed by somebody very close to the victim, and that's _why_ they excessively attack them. It's a very personal matter, it's not like some random mugging or assault, if that were the case, one or two jabs would suffice, but they're angry at these people and that is why they have to rip the knife out and stick it back into them over and over and over again, they're taking their frustrations _on_ this person _out_ on them."

Hannibal nodded, "Speaking as somebody who served in two wars and saw my own share of death and murder, I know that you're telling the truth there."

"Well that's something that we never knew, they don't tell us about that on the news or in the papers," Frankie said, "As a kid you don't really think anything about it, a killer's a killer, a psycho is a psycho, then you get older, do your research and it's a whole other ballgame."

Hannibal nodded again and said, "But how do you _know_ that Masterson is the one responsible?"

"Because Murdoch on his own merit couldn't make an enemy in the world, he is a _pushover_, Mr. Smith, he doesn't have a mean bone in his body. And I _know_ that he didn't kill that woman."

"Alright, now let's work on that theory," Hannibal said, "You said he was drugged, so the question is _how_ was he drugged? You two were at his home, what access would Masterson have to slip him something?"

"That's one thing I've wracked my brain on for a good part of the last two years," Frankie answered, "We went out to a pizzeria for dinner that night, that's one thing we can't decide on, he likes pepperoni, I like olives and peppers, and right after we _got_ it, I looked around, and I about hit the ceiling. I told Mad Dog, 'Masterson is here', he looks around, can't see anybody, thinks I'm just being paranoid. But it _had_ to be him, somehow he managed to put something in his side of the pizza before it was brought to our table."

Hannibal raised a finger to get her attention and said, "That's one area I _do_ have a little experience in, and if you know what you're doing it _can_ be relatively easy…but why only drug him, not you?"

Frankie nodded impatiently, "I thought about that too, but after a while it made sense, that woman was not killed in M.D.'s living room, she was just dumped there, so I wouldn't have to be drugged, because there wouldn't have been any screaming. Now, I don't know _how_ M.D. got down there to find the woman, perhaps Masterson had a part in that too, maybe he dragged him out of the bed, down the stairs, put the knife in his hands, smeared the blood on him, and then got out of there, but he _had_ to have been in the house that night, and he had to have been the one who called the police. Maybe he figured if I was lucid, that I'd think Murdoch did it, that I'd run out of there screaming, that I'd accuse him of killing the woman…surprise was on him, I knew better than that."

"Were they able to identify the woman?" Hannibal asked.

"Yeah, her name was Alice Arden, she lived a few blocks down from Murdoch's house, he knew her in passing, not enough to really say he _knew_ her. So he would have no motive for killing her."

"But of course no establishment can be made to connect this victim and your father's business partner," Hannibal said, "And by the time the story breaks, Masterson is conveniently back in Cranston asleep in his own bed and completely oblivious to the story until the headlines the next morning, of course."

"Of course," Frankie rubbed one eye and yawned, and said, "You know it's a very ironic thing, my whole life there's only _one_ person who believes me, who I feel safe around, and he's taken away from me just like that. Then I'm on my own."

Hannibal looked at her and he felt his stomach turning again, but not for the same reason as before. He got up from the table and told her, "Come on."

Frankie got up and asked, "Where're we going?"

"Never mind, just come on," he said as he led her out to the hall and up the stairs.

"Wait here," he whispered as he went over to Face's room and opened the door. There were a few low mumbles and a minute later Hannibal came back dragging Face out of his own room, and he told Frankie, "Change of plans, you take that room, Face and Murdock will room for the night."

"Hannibal, what's going on?" Face asked as Hannibal dragged him across the hall to Murdock's room.

Murdock hadn't gone back to bed yet and looked up when the door opened and he asked Hannibal, "What's up, Colonel?"

"Change of plans, Murdock, Face is going to be bunking with you tonight, that alright with you?"

"Sure, that's always fine with me," Murdock said as he pulled back the covers.

"Hannibal, what is going on?" Face demanded to know, "Why was I kicked out of my _own_ room for the night?"

"Because," Hannibal answered as he gave Face a little shove towards the bed, "I decided that those two kids have already been punished enough for something they didn't do, no sense in us adding to it anymore than is necessary."

"The two of them in there alone, you think that's a good idea?" Face asked as he reluctantly got in bed with Murdock.

"What're they going to do, lieutenant, fly out the window? That's nearly a 30 foot drop and it's straight down into the rock garden," Hannibal told him. He tucked Face in tightly to emphasize what he was too tired to say and added, "Get some sleep, we've got a lot of work to do tomorrow."

"I hate it when he says that," Face told Murdock once Hannibal left the room.

Hannibal closed the door behind him and started back for his own room, but stopped when he heard sounds coming from Face's room. He quietly padded over and pressed his ear against the door and heard soft, muffled crying coming from inside. He closed his eyes for a second, feeling sick for both of those kids, and quietly whispered, "Welcome home, you two," then turned and headed back to his own room for the night.

* * *

Murdock was among the first ones up the next morning and had taken it upon himself to cook breakfast for the others. By the time Hannibal and B.A. got down, they could already smell something burning in the waffle iron. They also saw that Frankie was already up, showered, and changed out of her hospital pajamas into a set of men's blue jeans and a blue plaid shirt over a black T-shirt.

"You're up early," Hannibal noted. He would've thought after last night that Frankie and Mad Dog would be in bed until noon.

"I'm hungry," she answered, "Besides, M.D. got up around 5 o' clock and came down here to sleep on the couch."

Hannibal doubled back to the living room entryway and saw that she was right, then he returned to the kitchen and asked her, "What's up with that?"

"Nightmares," Frankie told him, "Don't ask me why, but whenever Murdoch has nightmares he always picks the lowest point in the house to try sleeping and since you don't have a basement, that means the living room."

"I see," Hannibal said dismissively.

They heard Face's voice bellowing and echoing as it traveled down the stairs before he did. He entered the kitchen and said, "Murdock have you been in my closet again? I'm missing my…" he stopped when he saw Frankie and went over to the table and looked down at her.

"Yes?" Frankie asked as she tilted her head back to see him.

"You're wearing my shirt and my jeans," he told her.

Frankie stood up and said, "Oh yeah? Well now you know how they should look."

"Come on, Facey, have a heart," Murdock said as he grabbed a new waffle out of the iron, "You can't expect her to go running around in her nightclothes, that's indecent."

"Yeah," Frankie added haughtily with a sharp nod of her head.

Face rolled his eyes back and looked to the ceiling with a 'why me?' expression. Already he had the sinking feeling that he couldn't win for losing where these people were concerned.

"So where's Mad Dog?" he asked.

"In the living room," the others answered.

"Come on, let's go wake Sleeping Beauty up," Hannibal said.

They all went into the living room and found M.D. on the couch tossing and turning and groaning in his sleep. Before anybody could touch him, his eyes flew open and he screamed, fell on the floor and rambled incoherently as he latched onto the first thing he could get his hands on, which consequently turned out to be B.A.'s leg.

"Hey man, get this fool off of me!" B.A. was surprised by the sudden vise grip the young man had on his thigh.

Murdock and Frankie got down on the floor beside him and pried Mad Dog's arms off of B.A.'s leg and the three of them fell on the floor like a set of bowling pins.

"Strike," Face commented.

By now, M.D. was awake and just as confused as to what was going on as the others were, but for different reasons.

"What happened?" he asked.

Murdock dramatically fell back against the floor in shock by the question. Frankie cautiously grabbed his arm and explained, "You had a nightmare, Murdoch."

"Man!" B.A. exclaimed as he stepped away from them, "Sucker got a hard grip, Hannibal."

"And no easy task either, considering the redwood he was hugging," Murdock said.

B.A. growled and took a step towards him and Murdock sprang to his feet and jumped back.

"Alright, everybody get up," Hannibal said, "Murdock, get a spare change of clothes that Mad Dog can wear for the day, and then bring him back down here."

* * *

"Alright, so since everybody's now up and accounted for, Hannibal," Face said 20 minutes later when Murdock and M.D. came back down the stairs, "What's the plan for the day?"

"We're going to pay a visit out to Bakersfield and find out what the local word is about Miss Arden's murder, and then we're going to pay a visit out to Cranston and check on this Mr. Masterson."

"Who?" Face asked.

"Oh that's right, you weren't down here last night," Frankie said.

"No matter," Hannibal told them, "I'll explain it on the way."

"Hannibal, that hardly gives me any time to work on a…" Face started to say, but was abruptly cut off.

"Not _you_, Face, B.A. and I are going to go," Hannibal said, "If Masterson finds out somebody's onto him and tries to send some friends along to muscle their way in on us, I think it's only fair we have some muscle to lean back with, instead of a little flab."

"Not that again!" Face exploded, "I told you before, Hannibal I am not _flabby_!"

Hannibal chuckled at Face's outburst, but it was short lived when he was interrupted by his captain.

"Exactly what're we supposed to do in the meantime while we wait for you two to get back, Colonel?" Murdock asked.

"You and Face are going to stay here and make sure that Frankie and Mad Dog stay out of sight," Hannibal said, "Also, Murdock, since you are our psychological expert, I want you to work with them and see if you can get anymore answers out of them about what's going on, than they were willing to share with us last night. Maybe you can hit on a repressed memory and strike gold on it. I get the impression that we're going to be going up against a very smart and powerful man and if that's the case, we're going to need everything we can get to hit him with."

Murdock saluted proudly and said, "I shall do what I can do, Colonel."

"Oh great," Face said sarcastically, "You and B.A. go off on a road trip while I'm stuck here babysitting three lunatics!"

"No, no, no Facey, not lunatics," Murdock said, "Consider the word, 'luna', meaning moon, my kind doesn't originate from the moon, we're more along the line of natives from the planet Clarion."

Face turned back to the colonel and started to growl like B.A. when he was frustrated, "Hannibal!"

"Look on the bright side, Face," Hannibal said, "You won't have to try feeding them their spinach at dinner," and he chuckled at Face's obvious frustration.


	7. Chapter 7

Face wondered as he looked out the front windows if mood had any effect on the weather, or vice versa. Originally the forecast for the day was supposed to be warm and sunny, but the clouds had come back and looked like they were once again full of rain and going to open up at any time. And somehow it just seemed to tie in nicely with how he was feeling that day.

"Boy, I still can't believe Hannibal left us here and took B.A. with him, what's he gonna do?" he said more to himself than to the other people in the house.

He wasn't sure what Murdock had planned or exactly _what_ the pilot was doing; he knew that Murdock had stressed he not be interrupted while he worked, but even for him this seemed screwy. He seemed to have slipped into a facsimile persona trying to mirror either Freud, or his own psychiatrist Dr. Richter. First he'd tried talking to both Frankie and Murdoch at the same time, but that hadn't gotten him anywhere, so he'd sent Frankie out of the room, then he quickly ordered her back and told her to lie down and go to sleep until it was her turn again, and he and M.D. left the room instead. And now…Face just didn't know what to make of it, now the two men were sitting on the floor in the sitting room playing checkers while Murdock rambled on in his pseudo-psychiatric mumbo jumbo.

The phone ringing was like an answered prayer where the lieutenant was concerned. Only one person would be calling the house, that much he knew. Hopefully talking to Hannibal would be a breath of fresh air amidst all the craziness that he was inhaling.

"Cracker factory, what flavor are you?" he asked before he realized he'd even said it.

"Hey Face, how's it going?" Hannibal asked.

Face groaned, "Don't ask."

He could just hear the grin on Hannibal's face as the colonel pointed out the obvious, "Too late, I already did."

"You're just as bad as these three Stooges," Face told him.

"So what's going on there?" Hannibal asked.

"You got me, Murdock's playing Dr. Caligari or something, I doubt he's getting anywhere with either of them though," Face answered, "Where are you guys?"

"That's the thing," Hannibal said, "We're ditching the van so I called to let you know don't try reaching us on the mobile phone, we won't be anywhere nearby to hear it."

"Okay, I'll bite, then what the hell _are_ you doing?" Face asked.

"B.A. and I are going to go look up the coroner who did the autopsy on Miss Arden two years ago," Hannibal answered.

"Are you sure you'll be able to find him?"

"Sure, he's still working, some old man named Scheiner."

"So what's the gag?" Face asked.

Hannibal told him and by the time he was done explaining, Face was about to hit the floor laughing.

"Hannibal, it'll never work," he said.

"You of little faith," Hannibal replied, "When was the last time I had a plan that didn't work?"

"I don't know, what day is this?" Face asked.

"Very funny," Hannibal dryly remarked.

"Well, good luck Hannibal, I have a feeling you're going to need it," Face said.

* * *

Hannibal hung up the phone and called around to the back, "You ready, B.A.?"

"Hannibal, I ain't gonna do this," B.A. told him.

"B.A. will you stop being such a baby about this?" Hannibal asked.

"Trust me, Hannibal, you ain't seeing what I'm seeing."

"How bad can it look? I know I got the right size," Hannibal said.

"It ain't that," B.A. came around and told him, "You know I hate cops, and I ain't dressing up like one either."

"B.A., I already explained this, it's the only way the plan's going to work, besides, think about it, who's going to make trouble for a cop who is built like you?" Hannibal asked as he adjusted the badge on his police shirt.

"I don't like this, Hannibal," B.A. told him.

"Good, nobody said you had to," he replied, "Now get in uniform and let's go, I already got a squad car from the movie lot without anybody seeing, it's not perfect but it'll be good enough to fool those idiots where we're going."

"I hope so," B.A. said, "First we gotta leave my van, and we going in without any backup, anything happens we' cooked."

"You too, why is it everyone I work with has so little faith in my plans?" Hannibal wanted to know.

B.A. snorted and replied, "You got an hour?"

* * *

"Alright, M.D., I think I've got all the answers I need from you for right now," Murdock said as they got up from the floor, "I'll compare my notes with what Frankie tells me and then we'll reconvene later today."

"Alright," Mad Dog said as he left the room, still as confused as he had been going into this.

Murdock glanced over the notes in the small spiral notebook pad he'd scribbled down during their session. In reality all they were were a few stick figures and tic-tac-toe games; he didn't need to take notes, he never needed to take notes, he had a brain that could remember practically everything, not exactly photographic, but his mind was one big tape recorder that never ran out of room, or battery power. M.D. had recalled everything the best he could in response to Murdock's questions, but there were still a lot of gaps that needed to be filled if at all possible. So now he was going to see what Frankie had to offer. He picked up the checkerboard and folded it over so the pieces didn't fall off, and went back to the living room where Frankie was laying on the couch.

"Alright, Frankie, your hour starts now," he said as he entered the room.

He saw that Frankie was awake but she wasn't moving; she had her arms folded tightly against her like she was in a straitjacket and she remained unresponsive though she was perfectly conscious and alert.

"I'm sure you've seen a lot of psychiatrists already," he said, "If I might guess…you went to them first to try and get the green light on a committal, and they didn't think you were crazy enough, right?"

Frankie bit the inside of her cheeks and refused to say anything.

"Might I also guess that that was not the first time you went to a headshrinker?" Murdock asked, "Can I ask you a question? You ever go to one that actually seemed to fit that profile? You know headshrinker, people came up with that term because they didn't understand what psychiatry was, thought it was a bunch of mumbo jumbo like voodoo and the witch doctors on foreign islands." Murdock started doing a gibberish tribal chant and marched over to her singing, "I told the witch doctor I was in love with you, I told the witch doctor you didn't love me too, and then the witch doctor he told me what to do, he…oh come on, Frankie!" he pouted, "This game ain't any fun unless there's two people playing it."

Frankie rolled her eyes up to stare at him, the look said plenty.

"It's alright, Frankie, I know that you' mad at everybody about what's going on, ya certainly got a right to be, my goodness," he said as he sat down by her feet, "If anybody would've treated me as a kid like what you got, I think my grand-pappy would've chased him off with his shotgun. Grandma too, or if not that, she's chase him helter skelter with her kitchen cleaver," Murdock said, and raised his arms above his head to demonstrate, and added humorously, " 'And I suppose when I'm 200 years old, I'll get a velocipede'."

Frankie sat up and asked him, "What would you've done if nobody would believe you?"

"Well now we're getting somewhere," Murdock said, "Come on sit on the floor, I'll get the checkerboard set up."

* * *

"Sure I remember the Arden girl," the coroner, an old hunched over man named Robert Scheiner said as he tried to assist the two 'officers' who had paid him a visit, "I gave the police my full report when it happened two years ago."

"Yeah I know, but wouldn't you know, had about 20 boxes of records destroyed by water damage during the last bad storm," Hannibal said, "In any case, we weren't even transferred to the force here yet when it happened. Now the D.A.'s breathing down our necks about opening the case back up, says he may have some new evidence to use, a new suspect to look at, but he wants us to get all the records on the case first so he can make sure nothing's amiss."

"Oh good," Scheiner said, "Maybe now he'll be able to catch the real killer."

"What's that mean?" B.A. asked.

The old man shook his head and said, "I never bought that that Murdoch boy did it…of course the cops weren't interested in my opinion of _who_ killed her, only why and how killed her."

"Well what makes you think he didn't?" Hannibal asked.

"Just didn't make any sense," the coroner explained, "Granted, I didn't know him too well…I knew the Arden woman a bit better, she lived a couple blocks behind me…nice girl, though she made a few mistakes, but then again who hasn't?"

"What mistakes?"

"Well it was going round the rumor mill in town that she'd had a couple of affairs…married men, ain't that always the case? Same old same old, they say they're gonna leave their wives, she believed it, they never did, she eventually had to walk away…now if somebody was going to kill her I'd personally look at one of them, either the men or their wives, but this kid who barely knew her?"

Hannibal cleared his throat and asked, "What about the weapon?"

"Common kitchen knife," Scheiner answered, "Dime a dozen in any kitchen supply section of a grocery store," he shook his head, "Sad what happened to her."

"So you think she _was_ just dumped at the house?" Hannibal asked.

"Who said anything about dumped?"

"Weren't you there on the scene?" Hannibal asked.

"No," he answered, "There's more than one person working here, they were just bringing her in when I went to work the next morning."

"So you never saw the crime scene?"

"The cops didn't seem to see much point in it, and neither did my superiors," Scheiner told them, "We knew going into it that she was murdered, they only needed the grisly details of _how_ she was murdered."

"How many times was she stabbed?" Hannibal asked.

"Nine, excessive," Scheiner said.

"Personal," Hannibal recalled.

"Maybe, I really don't have much to compare it to, most of the people I work on are just normal heart attacks and natural causes and a few brain aneurisms, really don't see too many homicides."

"And when you do?" Hannibal asked.

"Usually gunshot wounds, one, two, never anything like what was done to that poor woman," Scheiner shook his head.

"Those men that she had affairs with," Hannibal said, "Do you happen to remember their names?"

"Sorry," the old man shook his head again.

"Could you tell if the knife found at the scene had any skin tissue on it?" Hannibal asked.

"Sorry, the police crime lab did that test themselves," Scheiner told him, "Don't tell me they lost that too. Good Lord they ought to change the name from Lost and Found to Lost and Staying Lost."

* * *

"Something's not adding up here," Hannibal said as he peeled off his cop uniform as he and B.A. got back into the van.

"You just starting to figure that out?" B.A. asked.

"Why would the prosecutor on the case be so eager to make a plea deal with the defense?" Hannibal asked himself.

"Evidence don't look too good to me, Hannibal, he probably knew he couldn't win," B.A. said.

"But the defense thought they were going to lose," Hannibal reminded him, "So it goes back to the side on whom the burden of proof falls…why make a deal and send somebody who would stab a woman nine times in cold blood off to the madhouse, instead of making him out to be sane and his actions premeditated, and then fry him?"

"Hannibal," B.A. already had that 'don't tell me' tone in his voice, "You don't think that this sucker Masterson got the lawyer in his pocket too, do you?"

"I hope not, B.A., but it looks like he'd got everybody else in there, I wonder where he finds room for his keys," Hannibal said.

"So now what're we gonna do, Hannibal?" B.A. asked.

"Now we're going to go pay the police a visit and inquire what they found, under the basis that the D.A. is looking to reopen the case."

"That's a bad idea, Hannibal," B.A. told him, "They gonna catch on and call him to find out."

"I didn't say _which_ D.A.," Hannibal pointed out, "We're going to go in there and say that the District Attorney of…oh, some state far out east, is looking to reopen the case because of a similar homicide that has occurred within their jurisdiction, the possibility that there is a serial killer on the loose and they put the wrong man away two years ago. Now a story like that is going to be a big sensation, it's going to make headlines, and it's going to make everybody in that department look more incompetent than they really are, so I'm sure they'll be only too glad to cooperate with us."

B.A. grunted and said, "You think they're that stupid, Hannibal?"

"They arrested a man based on an anonymous tip with no motive and a crime scene that doesn't match the crime committed, they don't strike me as being particularly bright in the first place," Hannibal reminded him, "And we're forgetting something else, something _very_ important."

"What's that?" B.A. asked.

"Frankie told us already, they had a witness, _she_ was in the house."

"She told us that, so what?"

"She was _there_, she was _in_ the house when the cops raided it, and she was _there_ when they hauled M.D. out, she said they didn't listen to her _or_ take her with them, and just assaulted her and left her behind. Does that sound like an up and up cop to you?"

"She said they were in his pocket," B.A. recalled, "And if that's true…"

"Then he's going to make the logical conclusion that we're coming to see him, but it'll be too late for him to put the word out to any of his associates to cover what they know," Hannibal said, "They're going to have to play it by ear, it should be interesting to see how it works out, after all even with a story memorized, two years passing is going to make it hard to keep their stories straight."

"Hannibal, why'd you ask about the knife?" B.A. asked.

"Just trying to establish something…now Frankie said Mad Dog had blood on him when she woke up…she knows the difference in a splatter and a smear, she said when the prosecutor was shot she had his splatter all over her, but she saw Murdoch was _covered_ in blood…covered could mean, as in smeared on."

"So what?" B.A. asked.

"Just thinking, maybe our killer is one of those psychotic types who likes to keep souvenirs of his kills…if so, maybe he took the real knife with him and just _smeared_ some blood on the one left behind and pressed it into Murdoch's hands."

B.A. groaned and shook his head and said, "Don't like it, Hannibal, anyway you look at it if what they said is true, this sucker's a real psycho."

"Yep," Hannibal said, "And as Murdock will tell you, they're the hardest to find because they fake normalcy _so_ well. Which would explain how the same person in question could harass a girl from the time she's 13 on because he knows nobody is going to believe her, nobody's going to take her word over his, not _even_ her own father."

* * *

Hannibal stopped at a payphone and called back to see how things were going since he'd last checked in on everybody a few hours ago. He had a few words with Face and then asked him to put Murdock on the line so he could see what progress the pilot had made with the others.

"Hello?"

"Murdock, what's going on over there?" Hannibal asked in his borderline disapproving tone, "I asked you to talk to those kids and find out what they know, and Face tells me you've just been playing games with them all morning."

"Not quite, Hannibal, it's a therapy method that I learned about at the V.A.," Murdock told him.

"Alright, enlighten me," Hannibal said, this was a new one on him.

"Sometimes, some patients go through a regression of sort when the present becomes too much to deal with, I'm not saying that they think they're kids again, but they do tend to behave more like them."

"I follow so far," Hannibal told him.

"Well…it's been to my understanding that one of the easiest times to get kids to open up is during something relaxing, something quiet that requires conversation to keep the silence from becoming maddening…think about it, colonel, when was the last time you saw two people play a game of checkers in complete silence?"

"Point taken, did it work?" Hannibal asked.

"Well, unfortunately I wasn't able to get very far with Mad Dog, I think Frankie's right, I think he had to be drugged the night of the murder because he remembers them falling asleep, and then he remembers being down in the living room standing over the body, but nothing between those two points. I asked him about what he knew about this guy Masterson, he says he'd seen the guy a few times but never really been properly introduced to him, just as well because the guy's a major creep-o."

"His words or yours?"

"Unanimous," Murdock answered.

"Any better luck with Frankie?" Hannibal asked.

"Not at first, she was a tougher nut to crack, just totally shut down on us…took a while but I got her to start talking again."

"What about?"

"Everything…Colonel, can I talk to you about something?"

"You have the floor, Captain, what is it?" Hannibal asked.

"I've been thinking about what she said the other night, about how she tried to pass herself off as a multiple personality to get committed."

"What about it?" Hannibal curiously asked.

"Well Colonel, it's coming to be common knowledge that in almost all such cases of multiple personalities, that the subjects in question were abused as children, that's where the extra personalities come from, somebody else to take the abuse, somebody else to get blamed, or somebody to protect them when nobody else would. Now _if_ she had been able to get institutionalized for that behavior, the doctors would've been looking into that matter and investigated."

"Do you think there's any merit to it?" Hannibal asked.

"I didn't get that vibe talking to her," Murdock answered, "If anything it just seems to me that her parents' worst behavior was in being too…negligent, absent. I asked her if she thought they hated her."

"And she said yes," Hannibal guessed.

"She said they didn't notice her enough to hate her," Murdock corrected him, "Granted, I don't think they did it on purpose, I'm sure that whatever they did, whatever their decisions, that they _meant_ well…"

Hannibal closed his eyes and grimaced at those words, and he said into the phone, "Parents always do."

"Yeah well…" Murdock said dismissively, "It's one thing to _mean_ well, it's another to _do_ it."

"Alright, Murdock, I want to ask you a question and get your professional psychological opinion on something," Hannibal said, "Knowing what you do about Frankie and what you do about Masterson, do the pieces fit? Does she sound like the type of person his kind would go after?"

"Well sure, she may have tried to tell people what was going on but he knew nobody would believe her, that's second best only to the kids that men like him know won't do _anything_ to make trouble by speaking up. You know the other night, she told me that she didn't have a lot of friends growing up, that, mixed with her parents' constant absence, all conspires together to make her a perfect victim."

"Except she was too smart to let him in the house," Hannibal noted, "That's the one thing he hadn't counted on."

"You know, Hannibal, I thought of something earlier, I was tempted to say the other thing he didn't count on was M.D. getting thrown in the booby hatch, but think about it, _somebody_ had to order him transferred to the V.A., and _somebody_ had to put in the order for him to have a lobotomy, to shut him up, it just _has_ to be Masterson, doesn't it?"

"Seems so, which means he undoubtedly knows by now that Mad Dog has escaped," Hannibal told him, "And if he's been following Frankie, then he knows she's not in Freemont either." A thought occurred to him and he said, "Murdock, would the staff at a mental hospital have any reason to beat up a patient who wasn't being unruly in the first place?"

"How come?" Murdock asked.

"I'm remembering something else, Mad Dog's got old bruises on his body, they _had_ to have come from someone at the hospital, but Frankie said he'd never hurt anyone, meaning the attacks on him were unprovoked."

"Well Colonel I'd be lying if I said they never did it, though I don't think it's as bad in mental hospitals as in nursing homes, those orderlies beat the old people all the time and just say they fell down 5-6 times a day. But uh, to answer your question, no, I don't think M.D. did anything to anybody there, certainly nothing to warrant a beating in return."

"Just checking," Hannibal said, "We'll be home sometime this afternoon."

"Okay, bye," Murdock hung up on him.

"So now what, Hannibal?" B.A. asked.

Hannibal hung up and turned to the sergeant and said, "We're going to go over to Cranston and pay Richard Masterson a visit, but _first_ we're going to pay the local police department a visit and ask _them_ about what went on at M.D.'s house that night. We're going to get to them first before Masterson knows to call and warn them that we're coming."


	8. Chapter 8

So so far Hannibal and B.A. had been out to see the coroner, next were the cops, Murdock knew no matter what they found that they had to be making some progress. Hannibal had to be finding something that would help them.

"You know," Frankie told Murdock when he hung up the phone, "It's too bad that when you guys broke me out of the hospital, you didn't tell me you were coming, we could've killed two birds with one stone and busted out the guy in the room next to me too."

"Who's that?" Murdock asked.

"He's a Vet like you guys," Frankie said, "I think his name is Kyle Hanson…_real_ weird one that is."

"What's so weird about him?" Murdock asked, suddenly feeling a challenge coming up.

"Well, if I heard right, he was lost in the bush for 8 months in Vietnam, given up for dead for two thirds of a year, and then one day just walked right out. He spent 14 months in a V.A. hospital and never said a single word to anybody during his whole stay, finally they had to release him for some reason, so they unleashed him back onto society, now _how_ they caught him again is just beyond me. I told him _he_ should've been my boyfriend, Masterson would've been dead the second he stepped on my front porch."

Murdock laughed and then a thought occurred to him, "Say, Frankie, you said that in the hospital you got violent with the orderlies and the nurses."

"That's right."

"Why didn't you ever get violent with this Masterson creep? Don't you think he might've taken a hint from that and backed off?"

"Well, I'll admit I wanted to, I wanted to so much, but I knew it wouldn't do any good, he'd just get me in even more trouble with my parents if I did that," Frankie said, "I know, I know that these guys look for victims who they think _won't_ make any trouble, who won't fight back, and believe me, if I thought it would've done any good I would've bashed the guy's head in with a cinderblock if I could've. You asked me earlier if I thought my parents hated me…you didn't ask me if I hated them."

"Do you?" Murdock asked.

"When I finally lost it and beat them up, trying to get put in the hospital, I enjoyed it," Frankie told him, "I'm looking at my mother and I've got her by the hair and I'm punching her in the face as hard as I can, and then I see my father and I kick him and take him down and I'm kicking him in his ribs, and I love it. All I could think about was all the times I told them what was going on, and they never listened, never believed me, they said I made it up, they said I imagined it, that they couldn't figure out why I lied all the time…I don't know that I hate my parents, but I loved seeing them suffer as I beat the crap out of them, now if that makes any kind of sense, you tell me."

"It does," he said with a nod of his head.

"I hated _doing_ it, but I loved it, I wished I could've told them _why_ I did it, but it wouldn't have solved anything and they wouldn't have understood it anyway," she explained, "You can't tell your parents _why_ you _want_ to be locked up in the nuthouse. They never would've gotten it."

"Most people wouldn't," Murdock told her, "Unfortunately the best people to understand _are_ the insane and the crazy because it makes perfect sense to them."

"If ever once they would've just listened to me and believed me," Frankie shook her head, "Then we wouldn't be in this mess now. No, that's not true, if I'd never been with Mad Dog then _this_ would never have happened."

"Frankie, since you're the only one who can remember that night, I'm going to ask you a question," Murdock said, "When you woke up, and you saw him standing over you covered in blood…_how_ was he covered in it?"

Frankie thought about it for a minute and then told him, "Take off your jacket and come with me into the kitchen, I'll show you."

Murdock followed her and hung his jacket over a chair at the table. Frankie turned on the kitchen faucet and ran her hands under the water and then turned and smeared them on Murdock's shirt. It was a light blue shirt so the large damp spots showed easily; she pawed her hands all over him and then smeared his cheeks the same way and down his arms.

"Like that?" he asked, maintaining a straight composure while standing there half soaked with cold water.

"Yeah," Frankie said as she turned the tap off.

"No blood spatter," Murdock observed, "So _how_ did anybody think that Mad Dog killed that woman?"

"You tell me and we'll all know," Frankie told him.

"Frankie," Murdock thought of something, "You said that the day you went to talk to the prosecutor about what you knew, that was the day he was shot and killed, right?"

Frankie nodded, "I told that defense rat that I didn't care what they said, what they tried to do, I was going to tell the prosecutor what happened because he would have to know that the evidence didn't match up."

Murdock nodded slowly and said, "And then the prosecutor gets killed, and a _new_ one comes in who's happy to take the insanity plea."

Frankie's eyes widened, "You mean Masterson _had_ him killed too?"

"Could be," Murdock nodded, "And I think that he _knows_ the other guy who took over the case."

"You think he deliberately had Mad Dog put in the crazy hospital, why?" Frankie asked.

"Oh well it's very simple," Murdock nodded faster as he explained, "In prison there's always a chance that somebody will believe your story of innocence, that's where appeals come from…but _nobody_ is going to believe a crazy person's word because they're crazy, and he wouldn't admit that he is crazy because he's not crazy but it's the people who say they're not crazy that are," he smiled and added, "I'm the only exception there."

Frankie hit herself in the head and groaned, "This is hopeless."

"Fear not, cous, we're going to find the answer to this puzzle one way or another," Murdock told her, "I give you my word as a mental patient."

"You have no idea how much that means to me right now," Frankie said, "It's come to my attention that most of those people in the crazy hospital are the sanest ones you'll ever find." She paused for a moment and added, "It's very odd, isn't it, Murdock?"

"What is?" he asked.

"That M.D. is so much older than I am, but ever since this whole mess started it's been me trying to protect him, trying to help him." She laughed oddly and said, "When I was a kid, I always thought if you were taller than someone, bigger than them, or older than them, that you had nothing to worry about from them…that size and age made all the difference and you could beat up anybody who tried to mess with you. And here's Murdoch, so much bigger and older than I am, but he needs _my_ help…and here I am still so much younger and smaller than Richard Masterson and…"

"And?" Murdock asked.

"I feel like I could kill him," Frankie said.

* * *

"Murdock," Face said as he looked around the room apprehensively, "Where are Mad Dog and Frankie?"

"In the kitchen getting lunch, why?" Murdock asked.

"Well I don't know about you, Murdock, but I'm _really_ uncomfortable having these people here," Face said.

"Why?" Murdock asked.

"Why?" Face repeated in disbelief, "Murdock, now you know I don't have a problem with crazy people in general, after all that's why we have you."

"Naturally," Murdock said.

"But I know you, Murdock, I've known you for over 10 years, these people we've only known them for two days, what do we _really_ know about them? How do we know that they're not lying to us about this whole thing?"

"Well I think if we were being set up on a wild goose chase that Hannibal would've found it out and they'd have been back long before now," Murdock suggested.

"But still, how do we know that they're telling us the whole truth?" Face asked, "Do you _really_ believe that that guy Mad Dog couldn't hurt somebody, even if he had to? What about this morning when he was hugging B.A.'s leg like a boa constrictor? You know how B.A. never responds to anything touching him or _hitting_ him unless it's over his head, but he said how strong of a grip Mad Dog had on him."

"Well that was a nightmare Face, you know that always makes a difference," Murdock said.

"Maybe, but how do we know that they're telling the truth? How do we know that Mad Dog isn't just pretending that he was drugged? It's very easy to say you don't remember anything."

"Face, you disappoint me," Murdock said as he shook his head sadly, "Now don't you think I learned _anything_ at the V.A.?"

"I don't know, about what?" Face asked.

"Face, believe it or not there are a _lot_ of people who aren't insane who try to convince the doctors that they are."

"You don't say," Face dryly responded.

"It is the doctor's responsibility to find out to the best of his ability if a patient is telling the truth and if he actually is suffering from a mental disorder."

"So?"

"So they become human lie detectors, they don't just listen to you talk, they _watch_ you, they _observe_, they notice your body language to determine if you're lying to them or not, and this is without having any prior knowledge of how they act when they're telling the truth."

"And you think you learned how to do the same thing?" Face guessed, "That you can tell by if they twitch or jerk or bite their nails when they're talking?"

"I like to think so, yes," Murdock answered, "_That_, and how terrified they both were when they recalled the events on the night of the murder…that's why I believe them. I don't think my family would lie about something like that."

"Murdock, don't start on that again, please," Face said.

"Well you don't know, Face, alright, so maybe M.D. can't be part of my family, but Frankie might be, and if when this is over she and he get married then that'd make us all family."

"Murdock," Face tried to restrain himself from saying what he was really thinking and settled on, "I really don't know that you ought to associate so closely with those people."

"How come?" Murdock asked as he followed Face into the kitchen.

"Because Murdock, insane, murderers, or not, we are dealing with a couple of _loons_ here!" Face said, and then realized that Frankie and Mad Dog were in the kitchen listening to him.

"Loons, eh?" Frankie asked as she bit down on a piece of steak, "You know what, Face? You can call us anything you want, we're in your house, we're eating your food, we're drinking your wine…this is paradise after that hospital."

"Yeah well don't be getting too comfortable," Face suggested, "As soon as we solve this case, you two are going to go back to wherever you came from."

"Can't," Frankie said, "After Murdoch's house was declared a crime scene, nobody wanted the place and it was condemned, and the last place I lived before the hospital was with my parents, and I ain't ever going back there."

"Well you can't stay with us," Face said.

"I _would_ extend the invitation to stay at my place since there's always plenty of beds," Murdock said, "But I doubt that a roundtrip to the V.A. was in your immediate future plans."

"Can't we just stay with you guys for a little while until this thing gets sorted out?" Frankie asked.

"How long is a little while?" Face asked suspiciously.

"Is forever too long?" she replied with a coy smile.

Her demeanor changed and she suddenly looked worried and said, "Your friends should've been back by now, something's happened."

"Never put anything past Hannibal," Face said.

* * *

"Are you kidding me?" Sergeant Madden, a middle aged man who had aged 20 years extra from his job and wore it horribly, asked when Hannibal had stated what business he and his 'associate' were there on.

"I do not specialize in kidding, officer," Hannibal replied, "I don't mind telling you that 2,500 miles is a long way to go for a fishing expedition so you better believe we made this trip on _some_ merit. Our boss at the District Attorney's office says to reopen this case to establish the pattern, the connection, so that's what we're here for, now we've already paid a visit to the attending coroner who oversaw the autopsy, Dr. Scheiner."

"That old kook!" the sergeant declared, "Well that just figures, he's just the kind of screwball to go along with a cockeyed idea like this. He's always screwing around on cases, thinks he's that Japanese guy, Noda…Nogami…"

"Dr. Thomas Noguchi," Hannibal corrected him, "The Los Angeles County Chief Medical Examiner until a couple of years ago."

"Yeah, him," the sergeant jeered dismissively, "That quack too, they're just as bad as one another..."

"Perhaps Dr. Noguchi should've performed the autopsy," Hannibal said, "I'm sure if he had, _you_ would've had your killer two years ago and then _we_ wouldn't be here."

"And what makes your boss think that the two deaths are connected?" the sergeant wanted to know.

"Well it's just a number of things that can't be written off as mere coincidence, a beautiful young woman, stabbed nine times and _dumped_ in somebody's home to be found, a decoy knife left by the body."

"What do you mean decoy?" one of the younger officers who had worked the case asked.

"Did you run a test on the knife found at the crime scene or not?" Hannibal asked.

"No, why should we?" he asked.

"Because, tests on the knife found at the second crime scene proved that there was no skin tissue or bone particles on the blade," Hannibal said, "The victim's blood had only been smeared on, the _real_ murder weapon had been taken with the killer when he left."

The officer and the sergeant looked at each other with a look that mutually said what neither would admit, that they had screwed up and now it was out in the open.

B.A., his usual strong silent type, hadn't said more than two words since he and Hannibal entered the police department. Now they were all shut off in an interview box where they interrogated criminals so they could speak privately; he stood blocking the doorway so the cops couldn't leave, so far they hadn't proven themselves dumb enough to try. Hannibal had certainly made him a sight to see, much to the sergeant's blatant disapproval of this plan, he had temporarily shed his gold chains and rings and put on a suit that he had said, and Hannibal could quote, 'I feel like I ought to shoot myself right now, being a cop was bad, being a lawyer's worse'.

"I might remind you gentlemen that while _we_ have no standing jurisdiction here, our boss can very well get in contact with _your_ boss and you _will_ face legal consequences for hindering prosecution if you refuse to cooperate with us. This is a capital murder case, and we at the District Attorney's office tend to take those very seriously. To establish a pattern, we're going to need everything you have from your investigation, now."

* * *

"I don't like it, I just don't like it," Mad Dog told Murdock later that afternoon, "They should've been back before now, what could be going on?"

"Unfortunately they probably ain't by the van's mobile phone so we can't call to find out," Murdock said, seemingly unfazed by Hannibal and B.A.'s long absence, "But if anything happens, Hannibal will find a way to get a message to us, he always does, just gotta have a little faith in the colonel."

Mad Dog laughed humorlessly and said, "You know when the last time was I could have faith in _anybody_?"

"You mean besides Frankie?"

"Yeah, besides her," he answered, "Been a long time."

"You two really seem to be perfect for each other," Murdock noted as he recalled Frankie's earlier comments about not having anyone to trust, "Did you ever meet her parents?"

"No," Murdoch told him, "We agreed that it wouldn't be in either of our best interests given our age difference."

"But you know Masterson," Murdock said.

"I was at the house one night when he paid a visit," he explained, "I answered the door, and that dude gives me the strangest look I've ever seen. I didn't like him, and you can believe me the feeling was perfectly mutual."

"He say anything?" Murdock asked.

"Demanded to know who I was and what I was doing there," Mad Dog told him, "Then he starts asking about my age…I pointed out he's a lot older than I am but that's not stopping him from trying to get in, he didn't take too kindly to that."

"You get in it with him?"

"No, I just slammed the door on him and locked it, I think he hurt his hand that way," Mad Dog explained.

"So how did Frankie explain it all?" Murdock asked.

"Well she didn't want to at first, which is understandable," M.D. said, "She always tried not to let on about it, but you could tell she was really scared of the guy…having me there didn't seem to help any, so we decided she'd just come over to Bakersfield and see me, we really didn't think that Masterson would follow her and come after us there. Our mistake was in stopping there, we should've just kept going and gone somewhere he could never find us, I doubt her parents would've noticed much, and as I said, nobody's waiting around for my release."

Murdock nodded sympathetically, he knew that if it wasn't for the rest of the Team, he'd be in a similar boat.

"You know, Mad Dog, I like you, I really…I like you, and I like Frankie, I like both of you guys," he said, "I want to see you guys get to go back to _some_ kind of home when this whole thing is over."

"You and me both, man," he replied, "You think we got a chance? You think this mess is ever going to end?"

"Oh Hannibal's plans always work, maybe not like he thinks they will…but they always do," Murdock said, "Just gotta have some faith."

"I'm trying, but it ain't easy, not after two years of being locked up for something that I know I didn't do, and I got the feeling that everybody around me who said I did _knew_ I didn't also."

"Yeah, we know the feeling," Murdock told him.

Face entered the living room and said, "Murdock, I've got a feeling we better get down to the grocery store and stock up, I think Frankie's trying to make a go of emptying that fridge before tonight."

"Well don't forget we _are_ eating for two more people now, Face, I think that's a good idea," Murdock said as he got up from the couch.

"Uh…" Face felt his pockets and asked Murdock, "Did you take the keys to the 'Vette again?"

Murdock shook his head.

"Wait a minute," Face said as a sudden feeling of anxiety came over him, "Where's Frankie?"

The three of them got their answer when they heard the roar of a car engine outside.

"No!" Face exclaimed in disbelief as he and the others ran for the front door.

They got out onto the porch and saw Face's corvette swerving and skidding off to the side in the outside part of the yard that was just a bunch of eroded soil between the curb and the driveway. The dirt kicked up and formed a dust cloud that smeared itself all over the side of the car, much to Face's immense displeasure.

"Hey!" he said as he ran up to the car.

Frankie hit the brake and turned the engine off, and stood up to see over the windshield, "What's happening?"

"What do you think you're doing?" Face exploded, "This is _my_ car!"

"Yeah, that's what I thought," Frankie said, "I've seen a lot of white corvettes but never one with a red stripe down the side, you don't think that makes you a little _obvious_?"

"Did you see the van?" Murdock asked humorously.

Frankie handed Face back the keys and got out as she said, "You know how long it's been since I've been behind the wheel of a car?"

Face laughed dryly and said, "Not long enough is my guess." He groaned as he saw the car caked in dirt and said, "Aw geez, look what you did to it!"

"Might just save your neck," Frankie said nonchalantly, "There ain't a lot of traffic up and down this road, and up on the main road you can see forever, saw a cop car coming up here with the lights on."

"Police? For us?" Murdock asked.

"Or us," Frankie told him.

"Nah," Face shook his head, an all too familiar feeling of dread running through him, "Gotta be Lynch, they must've found us somehow."

"Who's Lynch?" Mad Dog asked.

"He's the leader of an Army parade that's always trying to catch us," Face said, he turned to Murdock and said, "We gotta think of something fast."

"We're in luck, I've got an idea," Murdock told him.

"Yeah we're in luck alright, and probably all bad," Frankie observed.


	9. Chapter 9

The MP car came up to the stretch of road off from the house and pulled into the driveway. Two young MPs got out of the car and went over to the corvette parked out in the yard, where they saw a young woman was in the driver's seat and a young man was standing beside it.

"Excuse me," one of the MPs said, "Do you folks live here?"

"Yes we do, why, is there something the matter?" Frankie asked.

"Is this your car?" the other MP asked.

"Yes it is, we just bought it this morning," she said.

"Looks like it's already seen some wear," he said.

"Well we got it second hand," Frankie explained as she climbed out over the driver's side door.

"Do you mind if we ask from whom?" the first MP asked.

"Seems to be a lot of interest in this car, what's the matter, is it stolen?" Mad Dog asked.

"No, but we're curious about who you bought it from," he answered.

"A traveling man," Frankie answered, "He said that he'd just won a new Mercedes in a sweepstakes and didn't need this one anymore, said it wasn't a convenient size for his family."

"What did he look like?" the second MP asked.

"Oh, I don't know," Mad Dog looked to Frankie and then back at the officers and said, "I guess about 30, maybe 35, tall, thin, light brown hair."

"No," Frankie said, "He was flabby and had blonde hair."

"Well, blonde highlights," Mad Dog corrected his previous statement.

"What was his name?" the first MP asked.

Frankie glanced at Mad Dog and answered, "John Smith."

The MP did a double take and repeated, "John Smith?"

"Yeah, ain't that the corniest name you ever heard?" Frankie asked, "Maybe in Pocahontas's time it meant something but…"

"Did this man say where he was going?" the first MP asked.

"Nevada," Mad Dog said, "Said a buddy of his had won the car in Las Vegas."

"So how was he getting there?" the MP wanted to know.

"He had some friends pick him up in a van," Frankie answered.

The two MPs looked at each other and then back at the two of them and said, "Thank you, you two have been a lot of help."

Frankie and Mad Dog could hear part of the one sided conversation the passenger MP had on his radio right before they backed out onto the street and drove back the way they had come, "En route to Las Vegas, Peck's gotten rid of his corvette…"

They went up to the porch and stepped in the front hallway and declared, "All clear!"

Face let out a loud exhale as he and Murdock stepped out of hiding.

"That was close," he said.

"Not really," Murdock told him, "Lynch wasn't out there with them, just a couple of rookies, we could've taken them no problem."

"So now they're off to Las Vegas looking for you," Frankie said, "How long do you think that'll keep them gone?"

"I have a feeling it'll be long enough," Murdock answered.

"How did you know it would work though?" Mad Dog asked.

"I didn't," he confessed, "But that doesn't mean it wasn't worth trying."

"Oh Murdock, I could kiss you," Frankie said with a grunt.

"Good idea," Murdock said as he gave M.D. a shove towards her, "Go ahead."

They saw a flash of lightning up in the clouds and a few seconds later, thunder struck and everybody felt a rumble underneath them. Face ran to get the top up on the 'Vette and Murdock and the others went into the house.

* * *

"Sure is coming down out there," Murdock said as he gazed out one of the windows in the sitting room.

"Mm-hmm," Frankie murmured from where she sat by the large front window, watching it pour down against the glass.

Murdock turned towards her and watched as she watched the rain almost hypnotically, "You like the rain, Frankie?"

She made a sound in her throat that wasn't distinctive but somehow it struck him as being an affirmative response. She told him, "One time when it was _really_ coming down back home, my latest plan to convince my parents I'd lost my mind was I went out in the yard, took off my clothes and showered in the rain. Somehow even that didn't do the trick."

"Well hell, that's how I got most of my showers as a kid," Murdock said, "Rain water was always the best, nice and soft, no calcium buildup, no hard water, and in the summer that cold rain was a Godsend." He thought of something else and said, "You told us that no matter what you tried, nothing ever stuck, even when other people were involved, how did that happen?"

"Well, after a few years my father's business started to dwindle, he didn't have much pull in the community, but I'll give you one guess who did," Frankie said.

"Richard Masterson, he did all that?" Murdock asked.

"He became a big business man with a lot of money and a lot of authority and since he was a friend of my father's, he always managed to smooth things over and pay for the damages so nothing had to be done with me," Frankie explained, "He was always able to take care of everything, _until_ I was ready to kill myself, that was the one time he couldn't fix it, he must've found out what I was trying to do, why else would he do all that?"

"Well there is _one_ other possibility that I can think of," Murdock said, "Granted, you were a little old to be doing it, but one thing I've been learning in new psychiatric findings, teenagers who have been abused often act out to get out their rage because they can't or won't tell anyone what happened…and it's just possible that Masterson was getting worried that when your parents inquired about what was wrong, that you were going to tell them what he'd been doing and that they'd actually believe you. After all, you were too old for him to scare you with that 'tell and your parents die' threat."

"True," Frankie said, "But I _still_ can't understand how they always thought I was lying, I didn't lie to them more than most kids usually do, and those were all small, most they never found out."

Murdock shrugged and said, "Nobody ever wants to admit that the people they think they know could be capable of something like that."

"Oh yeah? Well if I ever have kids, I'm never going to treat them like that," Frankie said, "I don't care who it is, they say anything happened, I'm going to believe them."

Murdock could hear the desperation in her voice and the fatigue of fighting a losing battle for so long. He sat down beside her by the window and said quietly, "I'm sorry," and he lightly stroked the back of her head.

"I have one more question," he said to her, "Once you were committed, did your parents ever come to see you?"

"Once," Frankie said, "My mom came to see me for my birthday, my dad never came."

"How'd that go?"

"As you'd expect, I spent the whole visit in bed with my back to her, at that point I didn't have anything to say to her," she told him, "She brought me a present, I opened it after she left, it was a brand new dress, _really_ nice actually, but I never wore it…" she laughed and said, "Instead, that night I tore down the drapes from the window and wrapped myself up in them instead and tried to escape, and boy I'll bet I was a sight to see then."

Murdock smiled at the mental image that presented and almost laughed.

"Hey," Frankie thought of something and turned to him, "How did _you_ ever get committed to the V.A.? What'd you have to do to convince them you'd lost your mind?"

"Oh…surprisingly little," Murdock told her, "Veterans of war have that whole image of shellshock and post traumatic stress to give them leeway in that field, plus it helps if you have a blemish in your flying record of one time _crashing_ your plane. They _really_ seem to find it easy to believe then."

"Did you ever kill anybody in war, Murdock?" Frankie asked.

"Yes," he answered, "It _was_ a war after all, not a game of marbles."

"What's it like?" she asked.

"Well…I wouldn't recommend it," he said somberly.

"Is it true what they say about it staying with you…haunting you?"

Murdock thought about it for a few seconds and then slowly nodded his head. "You never forget the face of somebody you kill."

"Especially if you murder them," Frankie said, "How can people like Masterson do it and not be bothered by it?"

"Well _that_," Murdock told her, "Falls into a separate category, that's where you get into sociopaths and they don't count because they don't feel anything, they have no conscience, no real emotions, they derive pleasure from enforcing pain and suffering on other people, that's why a lot of them don't just simply kill their victims, they torture them for any amount of time before killing them."

"Do you think he did that with the Arden woman?"

"I don't know, what did the coroner find?"

"No bruising, no other notable signs of assault, just a bunch of stab wounds," Frankie said.

"Well, he may have made the first ones shallow so they just hurt and the suffering lingered and then made them deeper, moving in more for his kill," Murdock theorized, "It's hard to say."

"What about when he dies? You think he'll feel anything then?" Frankie asked.

"What do you mean?" Murdock asked.

"I was just remembering, when I was a kid I used to see a bunch of those old black and white movies on TV, you remember an actor, a big fat guy named Tod Slaughter?" Murdock shook his head, "Big _fat_ guy, played a lot of maniacs who laughed as he murdered people, but at the end whenever he died and he _always_ died because that was the rule in movies back then, he became a screaming coward begging for help. You think it really works like that, or do they not even care?"

"That one I couldn't tell you," Murdock said, "I never knew any that personally."

"Murdock," Frankie spoke up, "What're we going to do if you and your friends _can't_ stop him?"

"What makes you say that?" Murdock asked.

"There's no telling how far Masterson's influence goes, if he's already got the cops and the lawyers in his pockets, how're you guys _ever_ going to get close to him?"

"Don't worry, we'll find a way, he isn't the first slime ball with some money and muscle that we've gone up against," Murdock told her, "I could tell you stories…"

But he didn't get a chance to finish because at that moment they saw the shine of headlights flashing in through the window.

"Alright, they're back!" Murdock said as he jumped to his feet, "Let's see what they found out!"

As he and Frankie ran out of the sitting room they about collided with Face and Mad Dog and the four of them pretty much ambushed Hannibal and B.A. as soon as they stepped in the door.

"Alright, everybody calm down," Hannibal told them as he led them to the living room, "I'll tell you what we found out. First we paid a trip to the coroner who performed the autopsy on Miss Arden, and even _he_ agreed he didn't think Murdoch was responsible for it, but he couldn't offer much insight as to who he thinks _did_ kill her. Now," he turned to Frankie and added, "You probably know as much about Masterson as anybody we can ask, do you happen to know if he made a habit out of messing around with women closer to his own age?"

"Well he always considered himself a ladies man so I guess it's possible," Frankie said, "Why?"

"The coroner _knew_ Miss Arden and said that she'd been involved with a couple of married men in the past, and Masterson _is_ married, isn't he?"

"Aren't they always?" Murdock asked.

"After the coroner's office we went to talk to the police, and found out everything they knew about the case, which isn't much more than what you told us," Hannibal said, "So then we decided to go see Masterson himself."

"Oh no, you didn't," Frankie groaned.

"Well we got to his office," Hannibal explained, "But it turns out he's not there, so we helped ourselves in and looked around and went through all his records, all his memos, everything he's ever jotted down there. And it turns out, that the morning of the day the V.A. informed Murdock about the lobotomy the next day, our friend Masterson had booked himself on a chartered flight heading out to a tropical island somewhere out on the Atlantic."

"He took himself out of the equation so it could never be tied back to him," Murdock said.

"Perhaps, but it also turns out that this island he's on doesn't get long distance phone service," Hannibal said, "No telegrams, no nothing, meaning that there is no way Masterson knows that the operation was aborted or that you two have gone AWOL from the hospitals."

Frankie rolled her eyes and let out a sigh of relief, "We caught one break anyway."

"And another," Hannibal said, "Since he doesn't know you two are gone, he can't _possibly_ anticipate what's going to happen next."

"What _is_ going to happen next?" Face asked suspiciously.

"Murdock," Hannibal turned to him and said simply, "We're going to need a plane."

"Hannibal, I told you I wasn't flying nowhere!" B.A. told him.

"We're going after him?" Frankie asked.

"That's the general idea, yes," Hannibal said, "I managed to get the flight coordinations to reach the island, tiny place, won't find it on any general map."

"A plane, a plane!" Murdock was practically jumping for joy, "What type do we need, Colonel?"

"Well there are going to be six of us going, so I'd recommend something with a little breathing room, _but_, it's going to be a long trip, Murdock, we're going to need something good," he shook his head warningly, "_Nothing_ off the repair line this time."

Murdock nodded, "Gotcha, Colonel." He thought of something else and added, "Oh but…it would be harder for them to say no to two people instead of just one, so when I go to get our bird, can I take somebody with me?"

"Who?" Hannibal asked.

Murdock pointed towards Frankie and added, "I don't know that they're less suspicious with women around, but they don't tend to ask quite as many questions, I've noticed."

Hannibal turned towards her and said, "How bout it, Frankie?"

"Why not?" she shrugged helplessly, "What's the worst that could happen?"

"That's the spirit," Hannibal said humorously.

* * *

"When're we going to go get the plane?" Frankie asked Murdock as she watched the rain continue to pour down from one of the second story windows.

"As soon as the weather clears up," Murdock told her, "I figure by tomorrow we can have it ready and be in the air before noon."

"I get the feeling that your friend out there doesn't like flying," Frankie said.

"Oh B.A.'s _always_ like that," Murdock said, "Nothing but a big 230 pound crybaby. Anytime we gotta fly he always does that," Murdock cocked his head to the side and said in a rough imitation of B.A.'s voice, "I ain't flying", and then cocked his head to the other side and said in his normal voice, "B.A, we gotta fly to get this mission done on time." He switched back and said, "Forget it, ya crazy fool, I ain't going!" Then he switched again and said, "And then Hannibal gotta stick him in the neck with a sedative and he's off to beddy bye while we're kissing the ground goodbye."

"And he's _always_ that way?" Frankie asked, "Why?"

"Ah who knows?" Murdock shrugged, "He's been like that ever since we flew in 'Nam."

"He flew with you?"

"Yeah, well that _is_ how we met, you were asking about the bank job in Hanoi, I flew them during that mission."

"But you didn't need to knock him out for that," Frankie noted.

"No, that started once we got back here to civilian territory," Murdock explained, "Silliest thing I ever heard, I mean just because a guy's locked up in the psychiatric ward of a V.A. hospital is supposed to suddenly mean he don't know how to fly a chopper or a Gulfstream?"

Frankie guffawed and said, "Hell, half those nitwits licensed to fly don't belong up in the air anyway."

"Exactly, you get it," Murdock said.

"So what do we do in the meantime until we can get the plane?" Frankie asked.

"Hannibal's working on the plan, until then we just take it easy and wait for him to call us," Murdock answered.

* * *

"Hannibal, I told you before, I ain't flying," B.A. said the next day as he, Face, Mad Dog, and Hannibal waited near the intended destination for Murdock to land the plane for loading up once he'd given it a onceover test flight.

"B.A., I told you before, we don't have any choice," Hannibal said, "In the time it'd take us to get there by boat, Masterson's going to get word of what's going on. This is the only way we're going to be able to get the drop on him. Remember B.A., we're talking about an innocent man's life here, and two lives already ruined because of this jerk, doesn't that count for anything?"

"Don't start, Hannibal," B.A. growled warningly.

"Oh come on, B.A., you heard what this guy did," Face said, "Now just think if it was one of the little girls from your daycare center that he tried getting his hooks into? What would you say then?"

"I'd say he one dead sucker," B.A. told him.

"Well there you go," Face said, "Now B.A., _relax_."

"Relax? Getting on a plane's gonna be bad enough but with _Murdock_ flying it's going to be even worse!" B.A. said.

"B.A. don't get excited, you're going to get an upset stomach," Hannibal told him.

"Oh that reminds me," Face said as he took something out of his pocket, "I got the airsick pills."

"Good idea, let's take them now, Murdock should be here any minute," Hannibal said.

Face dished them out and handed one to Mad Dog, one to Hannibal, one to B.A., and took one himself. B.A. looked at the pill in his hand suspiciously, but when he saw the others swallow theirs, he did the same, reluctantly. A minute later they heard the roar of the plane's engines as the Gulfstream neared the destination. They saw the jet as it came closer and watched as it eased down onto the runway strip at the rundown airport a few hundred yards ahead and they went to meet the pilot.

By the time they got up on the runway, the stairs had already unfolded and Murdock had already made his way down them with Frankie in toll, but something was wrong. Frankie was seated on the bottom steps and Murdock seemed to be trying to revive her.

"Come on, Frankie, wake up," he said as he patted her cheek.

"Murdock, what happened?" Hannibal asked as they came running to see what was the matter.

"Ya got me, Colonel," he said, "She was alright when we took off but once we cleared 500 feet she just slumped over."

"Let me see," Hannibal said as he took a look at Frankie.

Murdock turned to B.A. and said scoldingly, "Boy, do you have any idea how much time and trouble you'd save us if _you_ could learn to just relax like that?"

B.A. growled and grabbed Murdock by his jacket but Face got between them and said, "Now Murdock, be nice, B.A.'s trying."

"Man," B.A. said as he ran his hand over his face, "This heat today is really something, I'm…" his eyes rolled back in his head and he fell down, but Face and Mad Dog caught him at the last second.

Frankie started to come around at that time and she looked at B.A. and asked, "What happened to him?"

"He's relaxed," Face answered.

"Already, everybody get the supplies and get on," Hannibal said as he took B.A. from the others and started to lug him up the stairs, "We've got a long trip ahead of us."

Everybody grabbed one of the duffle bags or carry cases from the rental car they'd used to get out there, and were just about finished loading the plane when they heard the sound of sirens approaching from the distance.

"What's that?" Mad Dog asked.

Hannibal was starting down the stairs when he saw the cars approaching. "Dammit, Lynch must've spotted us on the way out here."

"What's going on?" Frankie asked Murdock.

He didn't have a chance to explain because they could hear Lynch's voice on the bullhorn speakers on top of the car, "This is the United States Army, everybody stay right where you are and drop any weapons you have."

Hannibal put his hands up and called at the top of his lungs, "Don't shoot, we've got innocent bystanders here!"

Somebody didn't get the message because before anybody got out of the cars, a shot rang out.

"Dammit Lynch!" Hannibal said as he took a gun out of his pocket, jumped down to the ground and returned fire to buy the others the distraction they needed to get on board.

Apparently Lynch and his men must've been on a new brain food diet because one car sped over to them and cut off the access to the jet's stairs. As the driver stopped the car, two more MPs got out of the back and started firing at them.

"Get out of here!" Face told Mad Dog and Frankie as he and Murdock also took out their guns and started returning fire.

They took off running around to the other side of the jet and disappeared, with a handful of MPs chasing right after them. Hannibal, Face and Murdock ducked for cover in close proximity to one another around the airport and did their best to keep Lynch and his men at bay but they knew the odds weren't looking good for any of them. Face felt his heart sink when he pulled the trigger again and only heard a _click_.

"Hannibal, I'm out of ammo!" he said.

Murdock did a double take when he heard the same noise from his gun and he called out, "Me too!"

And the rest of the ammo had already been loaded up on the plane. Hannibal craned his neck down to see how bad the situation was and he laughed, "Looks like we're getting some help!"

Face and Murdock looked down to see what he was talking about and they saw Frankie and Murdoch coming back without the parade of MPs behind them, they'd each grabbed a couple of guns off their pursuers and started shooting at the remaining army. Lynch and the others turned at the noise and then ducked for cover and started shooting at them. It bought the Team enough time to crawl out from their hiding spots and take off for the plane. Murdock caught the glimpse of something through the corner of his eye and only had a second to realize it was an MP who lunged himself at the pilot. However, what the MP hadn't noticed was that Mad Dog was right behind him, and he grabbed the man by his foot and yanked him back and he hit the ground hard; Frankie just missed stepping on his head as she ran past him to the car. Hannibal realized she had gotten the keys off the driver and she threw herself into the driver's seat and got the car started and floored it, clearing up the entryway to the jet's stairs, and she swerved the car into a sharp U turn and brought it back around and proceeded to chase the MPs with it.

"Come on, Murdoch!" Hannibal called to the young man who had busied himself incapacitating the MP on the ground. He gave M.D. a shove up the stairs as the others reloaded their weapons and came back down the stairs and opened fire again to make sure that they didn't have any trouble this time. By the time they got back down onto the runway, they spotted the car Frankie had stolen far over on the other side of the runway; Hannibal ran over to get her and found her running back towards the jet.

"Come on, we're getting out of here!" he told her as he marched her over to the Gulfstream and up the stairs, "Alright Murdock, get us out of here!"

"Will do, Colonel," Murdock said as he brought the stairs up and closed the hatch and started the plane moving.

"Do you guys _always_ have to put up with those people like that?" Frankie asked as they made their way down the aisle to get strapped in for the flight.

"Oh no," Hannibal assured her, "Sometimes we have trouble."

"Meanwhile," Face pointed to B.A., who was strapped down in his seat and unconscious, "The big baby sleeps through the whole ordeal."

"Well what he doesn't know won't kill us," Hannibal said.


	10. Chapter 10

"What happens if he wakes up before we land?" Mad Dog asked Face as he gazed over at B.A. whose head had slumped to one side and he was snoring now.

"Then he'll try to kill us, that's what," Face said.

"Not to worry," Hannibal said as he sat down again, "I've got an extra dose of his bedtime drink on hand for that."

"Bedtime drink?" Frankie repeated curiously, "How often do you have to go through this routine?"

"Only every time we fly," Hannibal answered, "Which is quite often considering how many of our missions involve leaving the state of California."

"Alright Hannibal, now that we don't have to worry about B.A. objecting to the plan, what's the name of this island where we're going, when should we get there and what's it like?"

"It's called Blue Skull Island, what it's like I'm not exactly sure though it's to my understanding they do have some of the modern conveniences like air conditioned hotels and cold beer. As to how long it'll take us to get there, I'm not sure because I left the coordinations with Murdock."

"Oh great idea," Face said, "Knowing him he probably folded it up into a paper plane and tossed it away."

"Face, you've got to learn to have confidence in Murdock," Hannibal told him.

Frankie looked to the curtains separating the aisle from the cockpit and she asked Hannibal, "Can I go up there and see what he's doing?"

"Do anything you've a mind to," he said, and cynically added, "And being a woman, you will."

Frankie got up from her seat and walked up towards the cockpit and as she neared the curtains she could hear Murdock singing; straining to hear before she entered she was able to make out some of the words, "I asked my pappy why he called his brew white lightning instead of mountain dew, I took a little sip and right away I knew, as my eyes bugged out and my face turned blue."

Frankie drew back the curtains and stepped into the cockpit and saw Murdock with one hand on the control column and the other drumming his fingertips against the control panel as he continued singing in a slightly deeper voice than usual, "Weellll, T-Men, G-Men, revenuers too, searching for the place where he made his brew, They were looking, tryn'a book him, but my pappy kept a cooking," he sputtered and hiccupped, popped his lips and finished, "White lightnin'!"

"Hey Murdock," Frankie spoke up, and he about jumped out of his seat.

He turned around and said, "Don't tell me B.A.'s waking up already."

"No, he's out cold," Frankie said as she walked up to him.

"Good," Murdock said, "Because if I gotta land us now we're going right into the ocean."

"Murdock, where're the flight coordinations Hannibal had drawn up for you?" she asked.

Murdock reached over to the far side of the control panel and picked up a paper airplane and handed it to her.

"How long do you think it'll take to get there?" she asked as she sat down beside him.

"Well it'll take us the rest of the day to get to Florida, that much I know," Murdock said, "If I read Hannibal's directions right then we're going to be going down somewhere close by the Bahamas."

"That's down by Haiti, isn't it?" Frankie asked.

"Yeah, why?"

"Ain't you heard about that zombie potion they give people down there?" Frankie asked, "They act like their dead and their minds are completely destroyed."

"Sounds like Democrats to me," Murdock said.

"Murdock, have you ever heard of this Blue Skull Island?" Frankie asked.

"Can't say as I have but like Hannibal said it's a private little place, not exactly a tourist attraction though the locals do seem to be working on that," Murdock answered.

Frankie gazed out the plane's windshield and asked him, "How high up are we?"

"Well we must be clearing 10 thou..." he looked over at her and said, "You afraid of flying, ain't ya?"

"Must be," she said as she leaned back and strapped herself in, "I never flew before so I'd have no way of knowing."

"Well don't you worry, I am the best pilot there is, I've only crashed my plane once…well twice…well, if you count the time they shot a hole in the fuel tank…"

"Murdock," Frankie said.

"Yah?" he asked as he looked to her.

"Stop talking, you're not helping," she told him.

"Sorry, well don't worry, I've flown _thousands_ of times, I know what I'm doing," he said, "And you were there when we got the plane, it's in tip top condition, what could…"

"Don't say it," Frankie warned him, "Something bad always happens when you do."

"Well anyway it's going to be a long flight," he told her, "So why don't you just try to relax?"

"Maybe I ought to ask Hannibal if he got a spare batch of B.A.'s bedtime drink," Frankie said as she stood up and went back to join the others, "I could stand a few hours of blissful unconsciousness."

* * *

Well so far the plane trip was off to a roaring stop; of the five passengers aboard, only two were conscious. Frankie had asked for a dose of whatever they'd given B.A. to knock her out for the rest of the flight, so if the unexpected should happen she wouldn't have to see her own death coming. Face had had his doubts about giving something so powerful to her, but he had told Frankie that he did keep some sleeping pills on hand, apparently that had been a mistake; Frankie had grabbed him by the collar and shook him until she got the pills and he had found out firsthand just how much upper-body strength a skinny woman could possess, then _he_ couldn't wait for her to be knocked out.

After a few minutes the pills took effect and Frankie was dead to the world; thankfully Mad Dog didn't need the help of any pills to achieve the same effect, he passed out due to his own exhaustion, so it made for a very quiet flight.

"I don't know about you, Hannibal, but I'll like it when this is over and we can get rid of these two," Face said.

"What's the matter, Face, don't you like their company?" Hannibal asked jokingly.

"No, to be quite frank about it, I don't," Face said as he adjusted his collar, "Geez, now we got two of them like boa constrictors."

Hannibal just chuckled and took out a cigar to light.

"Hannibal, I've been thinking…"

"Congratulations, Lieutenant."

"Hannibal, I'm serious," Face said, "I think there's a problem here. I don't know about you, but it seems to me that ol' Mad Dog here isn't too bright, he seems to be more like a ventriloquist dummy, you know? If Frankie isn't talking for him then he's saying what she says…"

"What's your point?" Hannibal asked.

"Hannibal, you remember Of Mice and Men?" Face pointed over to the two sleeping passengers and said, "I think we got something similar here," he pointed at Frankie and said, "George," and pointing to Murdoch he added, "And Lenny."

"Well you have to remember, Face," Hannibal said, "Murdoch's been in a mental hospital for two years, about all that he _can_ talk about is what goes on in there, and let's face it, not only is that not anything we _want_ to hear about, we're not equipped to deal with his memories, that's Murdock's field of expertise."

"Yeah, well, maybe you're right, but I've got a bad feeling about this whole thing," Face said.

"Well that's your problem to deal with," Hannibal told him, "In the meantime we have other things to worry about."

"Hannibal," Face jerked a thumb towards Mad Dog and Frankie, "You think they have a chance? I mean do you really think they could make it?"

"If we can clear Murdoch on this murder rap, I don't see why not," Hannibal said.

* * *

"Ladies and gentlemen we are fast approaching Blue Skull Island and if you will look out the right side window you will see our final destination down below. Landing is estimated to occur within the next 10 minutes," Murdock's voice came over the loudspeaker in the cabin.

Face and Mad Dog got up from their seats to have a look down below.

"Whoa, it _looks_ like a skull," Face said.

"Probably _why_ they named it that," Hannibal said.

"Look at all those trees," Frankie said as she craned her neck to see.

"Looks like Vietnam," Face realized. He did a double take and then turned around, "Hannibal."

"I'm going to go speak with our pilot," he said as he got up from his seat and stepped down the aisle.

He pulled the curtain open and stepped in and saw Murdock bobbing his head from side to side and drumming his fingers on the controls as he hummed "Cambodia".

"Murdock," Hannibal said, "How fast can you get us landed? I think B.A.'s going to wake up soon."

"I'm looking for a runway," Murdock explained, "I'm not seeing any."

"Figures," Hannibal said, "But if Masterson chartered a flight here from Los Angeles he had to come in a plane around this size too. Don't you see an airport or _anything_ down there?"

"I'm keeping my eyes peeled, Colonel, but I'm not coming up with anything," Murdock said.

Hannibal looked down at the island they were quickly approaching and couldn't see any fitting place to land either. Then, all of a sudden Murdock practically shot up in his seat and said, "Hey Colonel, I see it!"

"An airport?" Hannibal asked.

"No, look!" Murdock pointed.

Hannibal turned his head to see what Murdock saw, and he couldn't believe it. Up on the shore, just a few yards in from the surf.

"An aircraft carrier!" he couldn't believe it.

"How fortuitous for us," Murdock said, "And it's empty too!"

"Yeah, I just hope nobody's using it," Hannibal commented.

"Hannibal, what's going on?" Frankie asked as she came into the cockpit.

"Get back there and get strapped in!" he yelled at her, "We're about to land!"

"Oh yeah? Is he going to crash us?" Frankie asked.

"No."

"Then I'm staying here," Frankie said as she stepped further into the cockpit and looked out the windshield, "What's that?"

"Didn't you ever play Battleship?" Hannibal asked her, "That's an aircraft carrier, that's where we're landing."

"Now _there's_ irony," she said, "Are we going to fit?"

"Good question," Hannibal turned to Murdock and asked, "What do you think?"

"Well those things are about 850 feet long, that _should_ be enough room for us to touch down and stop," Murdock said, "That looks like a chopper carrier, assault version at that, those were built to hold 20 or 40 copters at once depending on the model, especially those big Sea Knights, it ought to hold one little ol' Gulfstream."

"I'm going back to the cabin," Frankie said with a groan, "I suddenly feel a need to say my prayers."

"Yeah, say one for me too," Hannibal told her as he sat down beside Murdock.

"Keep your fingers crossed, Colonel, I never tried landing on one of these babies before," Murdock said.

"Murdock, my toes are crossed," Hannibal told him.

"Here we go!" Murdock announced as the jet dropped at a considerable speed. Even Hannibal, who was always known as being unshakable, had a white knuckled grip under his gloves.

"Alright, here we are," Murdock said.

Hannibal realized that he'd closed his eyes, he opened them again and saw that indeed, Murdock had gotten them landed on top of the ship.

"Alright," he said, "Open the hatch, put the stairs down, and let's get out of here before B.A. wakes up."

"You got it, Colonel," he replied.

* * *

A local woman somewhere in her late 20s with dark hair, wearing a blue tie dye top and a green snake pattern sarong skirt came up to the six newcomers who were trying to make their way off the carrier with one unconscious member in tow.

"Can I help you?" she asked.

"Oh excuse us," Hannibal called down to her, "Is this your aircraft carrier?"

The woman smiled and shook her head, "It's the island's you might say."

"Then you don't mind if we use it, do you?" he asked.

"No," she said with a small laugh, "But it's a rather unusual place to land."

"Well we couldn't find the airport," Hannibal said by way of explanation as he made his way down with B.A.

"A lot of people say that when they come here, so that platform was put in to help people get down when they made the same mistake you did," the woman told him.

"Well that was very kind of whoever did it," Hannibal said, "Is there somebody here that could give us a tour? This is our first time here, _obviously_, and we'd like to know our way around."

"Yes," she said, "Once you come to the hotel I can get somebody to show you around."

"What hotel?" Face asked.

The woman turned and pointed to a building a couple hundred yards back behind them, "The Hotel Coconut."

"Sounds like my kind of place," Murdock said.

"I'll bet," Frankie said as she tapped him on the back of his head.

"Is there a place around here to rent cars?" Face asked.

"Not so many cars around here because we're a ways off from the city," the woman told him, "But we have a jeep for bringing in people from this landing point, and we do have a place to rent dune buggies to get around on the beach."

"That'll be close enough," Hannibal said, "And what's your name, miss?"

"Shelia," she answered, and looking at the unconscious man Hannibal was lugging she asked, "Is your friend alright?"

"It's always a choice of airsickness, or this reaction to the pills," Face explained, "We choose this."

"I see," Sheila said with a smile.

They got B.A. and their bags loaded onto an old jeep that Hannibal guessed would've been new when he was in Korea. It was a very tight fit and they'd have to make a second trip to get the rest of their luggage but everybody managed to squeeze in and Sheila drove them up to the hotel, which was a very impressive sight from close up. The Hotel Coconut was seven stories tall and made to look like it was constructed of grass and bamboo when in reality it was made from fiberglass, vinyl sidings and construction plaster.

"Very nice," Face said as he looked at the building, "Very…" he craned his neck at some of the bathing beauties in their swimsuits and added, "Impressive."

He felt a hand on the back of his head and it jerked him back around to face the others.

"Come on," Hannibal told the others as he put B.A. down in a chair in the main lobby with a pronounced 'oomph', "Let's get checked in."

Sheila resumed her post behind the front desk and Hannibal told her as he signed them in under an alias, "We're going to need three rooms with double beds, is that doable?"

"Certainly, sir."

From behind them, everybody heard B.A. grumble and groan as he started to wake up.

"Uh oh," Face said.

"Battle stations everybody," Murdock told the others.

Hannibal went over to the sergeant just as he started to open his eyes and realize where they were, or rather where they weren't.

"Hannibal!"

"Be quiet, B.A.," Hannibal hissed into his ear, "We're already checked in and Masterson is already here _in_ this hotel, now I _know_ that you're smart enough to realize how vital it is to our mission that we don't give ourselves away."

B.A. was quiet for a second and then added in a quieter tone, "I'm gonna get you for this, Hannibal, you drugged me and put me on another airplane!"

"You knew we were going to fly, that's why you took those airsick pills," Hannibal said, "You had an adverse reaction and fell asleep, now be quiet and behave yourself while we're here."

B.A. was still murmuring vague threats to Hannibal as they went and joined the others and got on the elevator to go up to their rooms on the fourth floor.

"We're each going to take two to a room," Hannibal explained, "B.A. and I'll take one room, Face, you and Mad Dog are going to take another, and Murdock and Frankie will take the third."

"Why don't we switch?" Frankie asked, "Mad Dog and I'll take one room, and Laurel and Hardy here will take the other."

"No dice," Hannibal told her, "Masterson is checked into this hotel and if he finds out we're here, or if any of the MPs come over here on a boat or a plane, if they manage to catch one set of you, the other will still have a chance to get away, and one of us and one of you making an escape will be better odds for all of us."

"What room is Masterson in?" Mad Dog asked.

"He's two floors under us," Hannibal said, "If he's paranoid then it makes sense because two floors up are easier to make an escape from than four or five, or seven."

"So when're we going to get him?" Frankie asked.

"Whoa," Hannibal grabbed her by the neck of her shirt, "You can't just go busting in there like the SWAT Team, if we're going to catch him we have to be smart about it, and that includes making sure he doesn't have any friends with him, and that he's not meeting anyone here, and if he is we need to find out who and where they are, and what their business is with him."

"Yeah but Colonel," Murdock said, "While we're here we can still have some fun, can't we? I mean did you see the size of the pool in this place? I want to go swimming."

"You can't swim, crazy fool," B.A. told him.

"I can't?" Murdock replied, "Well I sure thought I can, is that like the time you said I couldn't drive?" As B.A. opened his mouth to respond, Murdock got in his face and asked him, "Then who was it driving when we went to Mexico and you slept the whole way?"

"We didn't _drive_ to Mexico fool, you drugged me and flew me out _then_ too."

"Well I drove us from the airport anyway!" Murdock insisted.

"Children, please," Hannibal got between them, "Now Murdock, while we're here it's important that we blend in, so we'll be engaging in some of the usual hotel activities, so yes you'll be able to check out the hotel's pool."

"Oh good," Murdock said as he picked up one of the duffle bags, "I brought my swimming suit and I want to get some use out of it."

B.A. grumbled and said to himself, "Lord help us all."

They got off on the fourth floor and found their rooms; they were all decorated the same in the usual tropical island motif, though everybody was relieved to find the rooms had plenty of modern conveniences: adjustable thermostats, minibars and fridges, hot and cold running water, and telephones that rang down to the hotel staff and outside lines leading to local areas.

"They even have TV in this place," Face said, slightly amazed.

Murdock turned the knob on the set and fiddled with it and said, "Yeah, but it only gets one station and that seems to be the all Gilligan's Island channel."

"Oh that show was always so ridiculous," Face said, "Imagine them creating all those things out of bamboo and coconuts and spare parts from the boat every week, making all those wild contraptions out of absolutely nothing but whatever was laying around at the time, whoever heard of such a thing?"

"I know," Murdock said, "Crazy, ain't it?"


	11. Chapter 11

"I still don't understand why Mad Dog and I can't take one room and you two take another," Frankie said to Murdock as they got their stuff unpacked.

"Hannibal already explained that," he told her, "It's a precautionary measure incase we get ambushed here."

"Well I still don't like it," she said.

"I know you don't," he replied, "Nobody said you had to. Look Frankie, I know that you're in love with M.D. and that you feel it's your job to protect him…"

"It's more than that, Murdock," she told him, "Look, you _know_ why you got locked up in the loony bin, but can you imagine being arrested for a murder that you can't even remember if you committed or not? He has almost no memory of that night, and he's about killed himself for two years trying to remember something that he can't, can you imagine what that's like?"

He shook his head, "No, you're right, I can't."

"Neither can I," Frankie said, "Though I admit to my own lapses in memory of that night…Murdock, there's something else that I didn't tell Hannibal."

Oh boy, Murdock tried to anticipate just how bad _this_ revelation could be. "What is it?"

"I told you guys that when Murdoch got arrested, that I had just turned 17…had quite _literally_ turned 17, it was my birthday that night and when we got back from dinner we had a big cake on the dining room table and we ate a quarter of it, we forgot to put it away before we went to bed. I don't know how or why I noticed it at the time, or that I remember it now…but I remember something else from that night, when we went downstairs, when we heard the sirens and saw the lights flashing outside, they shone in through the windows and I saw that the cake was still on the table…but the metal server we'd cut it with was gone."

Murdock was putting the equation together and said, "You think that _that's_ what actually killed the woman?"

"I don't know," Frankie said in a quiet voice as she shook her head, "It was a narrow blade, I guess it could be confused with a kitchen knife, but for that to be true…"

"It means Masterson came into the house _once_, took the server," Murdock said.

"Killed Alice Arden with it, brought her into the house, dumped her body, and took off, the cake server in tow."

"As a souvenir like Hannibal said," Murdock said, "So he might have actually been onto something."

"You didn't think he was?" Frankie noticed.

"I thought he was just throwing that in to his questions to throw the authorities off and shake them up some," Murdock said as he sat down on the bed and scratched his head, "Oh boy, even Columbo couldn't solve this one."

"Oh just one more thing, Murdock," Face said as he came into the room, "I was wondering if…" he saw the grim looks on their faces and asked, "What's wrong?"

"Well Facey another piece has just been dropped into this jigsaw puzzle," Murdock told him, "And you aren't going to like this one."

"I haven't liked any of them so far," he said, "I don't even like being here!"

"Oh yeah? Then go look out the window," Frankie said, "It's women's volleyball out on the beach right now, that ought to perk you up _real_ fast."

"Very funny," Face dryly remarked.

* * *

Hannibal pulled back the curtain to the window in his room and looked out towards the shore.

"So tell me, Sheila," he said, "What's the story with the carrier out there?"

Suddenly the woman working in the hotel became very quiet. Hannibal guessed what the reason for that was and he assured you, "Don't worry, the U.S. Army hasn't been interested in anything we've had to say for over 10 years."

She nodded knowingly and said, a breath of relief working its way out of her, "It was about 20 years ago, one morning after a horrible storm everybody on the island woke up and found the carrier on the beach. Most of the crew was dead, only three men were still on it, it was a wonder they hadn't all been killed."

"From the American Navy," Hannibal guessed.

"Yes," Sheila said, "The way it was always told to me, they had been given orders to transport the carrier across the ocean, there it would be filled up with aircraft and taken across the ocean again for an attack."

"20 years ago, that would be around the time of the Cuban Missile Crisis," Hannibal said, "They were supposed to load it up so the planes could be moved to Cuba to attack them?"

"Yes," she nodded, "But part of the crew had other plans, they thought if the carrier became lost, it would take a long time to get another one on the same path."

"Sabotage?" B.A. asked, "That's what it was about?"

"More like mutiny," Hannibal said, "Some guys in the Navy didn't want any part of what was going on so they decided to turn the ship around halfway between the two points…and they found this place by accident?"

"Just like Columbus and America," Sheila told him, "When they were found on the beach the morning after the storm, they were half delirious and taken to the hospital."

"So what happened to them?" B.A. asked.

Sheila shrugged and said, "We have no extradition treaty with the U.S., so nobody decided that the Navy or anybody back in America needed to know about what happened. Their friends were all dead and lost at sea, what point in making them suffer more than they already had? So…we left the carrier on the beach and let the men live here. Since people use the carrier when they land, we try to keep it in good condition."

"And where are these men now?" Hannibal asked her.

"Dead," she answered bluntly, "They died years ago…they requested they not be sent back to America for burial and that nobody find out what happened, so they were buried here, and we left the carrier on the beach since nobody who could find the island could make any claim for it."

"Where were they buried?" Hannibal asked.

"At a cemetery in the city," Sheila explained, "But if you follow the trees to the west of the hotel, you'll find the memorial site for them, three crosses in a row."

"Thanks, Sheila," Hannibal said, "I think I'll check it out." He turned to the sergeant and said, "Feel like coming, B.A.?"

* * *

"It don't make sense, Hannibal," B.A. said as they walked through the rainforest, "Why would the military send out an aircraft carrier to load up with planes, so they could fly over Cuba and attack them?"

"I seem to recall during the Crisis that there _were_ talks about attacking the Cubans from sea and air," Hannibal said, "But the plans were aborted. At least that's what _we_ were told, but perhaps Vietnam wasn't the _first_ time the government lied to the general public."

"So why do you want to see this place?" B.A. asked.

"Looking for something," Hannibal answered.

They trudged through the dirt and the weeds and finally came up to the three crosses. Three wooden crosses that stood four feet high, they'd been varnished and lacquered to protect against the elements. Hannibal crouched down to read the names on the crosses, on the left one it said Vice Admiral John Phillips, the one on the right said Rear Admiral David Robbins, and the one in the middle shocked both men who read it: Lieutenant Commander John Smith.

"It's the Twilight Zone," Hannibal quietly murmured under his breath.

"You know something about this, Hannibal?" B.A. asked.

"I come from a long line of John Smiths in my family, I had a cousin in the Navy, he disappeared back in 1962, the official word was 'lost at sea', we didn't have any reason not to believe it…" he looked at the cross and shook his head, "But I sure never thought he'd have it in him to pull a stunt like this."

B.A. got a sudden feeling that it would be better if he was somewhere else, so he slowly stepped back and inched away from Hannibal, but decided to stay close by incase the colonel needed him.

20 years of thinking his cousin dead, only to find out he came to this island and died there instead, and only a few years ago. It was a lot to process, but for the moment, the only thing Hannibal could think to say was, "Thanks for supplying our land way, cousin."

B.A. could hear Hannibal talking to the grave marker but he couldn't hear what the colonel was saying, just as well. After a few minutes, Hannibal got up and doubled back the way they had come.

"What now, Hannibal?" he asked.

"You heard Sheila, there's no extradition from here back to America, and no way to contact anybody back home either, meaning if we're going to hand Masterson over to the authorities, we're going to have to toss him in the plane with us when we go back," Hannibal said, "But first we have to catch him."

"That's no problem," B.A. said.

"No, but making sure we're not walking into an ambush is going to take a little more strategy," Hannibal reminded him.

* * *

"So explain to me how since you don't have any contact with anyone off this island, you're able to have all the supplies brought in to keep your hotel in business?" Face asked Sheila later that afternoon as he had originally caught her alone but quickly been joined by the three lunatics.

"I didn't say we don't have contact past the island," she corrected him, "I just said our phone service doesn't reach far enough to get anyone in America. We're able to get our orders off to the suppliers who bring in everything once a week by boat, anything that needs to be brought over from America is loaded up and exported from Florida."

"Makes sense," Face said, "They're the closest to this place as far as the U.S. goes."

Murdock had found one of the hotel menus and was reading over everything on it, mouthing the words as he went down the list, trying to decide if anything sounded good or not.

"What's the difference in a plantain banana and a regular banana?" he asked.

"Plantains are cooking bananas," Sheila told him, "The ones you're accustomed to are referred to as dessert bananas."

"How's that?" Face asked.

"She means the plantains ain't got any taste to them," Frankie spoke up, "I had one once, you have to fry them or grill them or do something with them, you _can_ eat them raw but it ain't recommended."

"How reassuring," Face dryly remarked, "Does cooking them improve the taste?"

"Not by much," Frankie offered.

Face glared at her but she didn't seem to notice and instead read over Murdock's shoulder.

"Hey Facey," Murdock said once Sheila left to tend to some other guests checking into the hotel, "You think it's a good idea to get involved with the help? You stand her up and she could cut off our room service."

"Oh don't worry, Murdock, I'm not interested in her," Face told him.

"Right, which is why you've been hanging on her every word since we came down here, right?" Frankie asked coyly.

"It just so happens," Face told Murdock, "That I've got a date with a woman tonight, and it's someone staying in this hotel on the 5th floor."

"How cozy," Frankie commented.

Face turned to face her and said, "Frankie."

"What?" she looked over to him.

"Zip it," he told her.

Frankie waited until Face also left the room, and she went over to Murdock and told him, "I've got to get out of this hotel."

"What's the matter?" he asked.

"I've got to get into the city and check on something," Frankie said, "You can cover for me, can't you?"

"Now wait just a minute," Murdock said as he jerked her back by her sleeve, "You can't just take off and leave me holding the bag, or any of us for that matter, the only way you're leaving this place is with an escort."

"Okay," Frankie shrugged his hand off of her and after a short pause she asked him, "Who?"

"Who? Well look, Face can stay with Mad Dog up in the room, I'll go with you, I can blend right into this place."

"Sure, an island full of bananas and nuts, you fit just _fine_," Frankie sarcastically noted.

"I'll leave a note for Hannibal and then we'll go," he said, "But where're we going?"

"Well, you probably won't like it," Frankie told him.

* * *

They left the hotel and walked until they reached the city limits and then got a ride on a bus that had been given a convertible treatment and had no roof so they could see everything around them and above them. They stopped off somewhere in the middle of the city and Murdock followed Frankie until she came to a stop outside one particular building. He read the sign and did a double take, "A _beauty_ parlor?"

Frankie didn't say anything and just went in. Before they'd left she had opened the minibar in their room and helped herself to a few drinks and was already a bit tipsy. However, she wasn't drunk and when she did talk she was still largely coherent and lucid, all the same Murdock made sure he wasn't more than a couple feet away from her during their whole trip away from the hotel.

"Why'd we come _here_ of all places?" Murdock asked Frankie as they stepped into the building.

"I'm getting my hair done," she said with a slur, "I chopped it off, it finally started to grow back, but this ain't my color…I want to feel like myself again so I'm going to look like myself again."

"Okay, shall we try that again in English or don't you speak that?" Murdock asked as he followed her over to a set of empty chairs and sat down beside her.

"I was born a redhead," Frankie explained as she grabbed a handful of her blonde hair and held it up, "This is a dye job…until it comes out I want another dye job to make me look like my old self again. Masterson," she practically shouted, and then put a finger to her lips and went 'shhhh' to Murdock and whispered, "Masterson most recently remembers me as a blonde, so it stands to reason first of all he won't be expecting me here anyway, and secondly he won't be expecting me to be going back to my original roots," she laughed at her joke.

One of the women who worked at the parlor came up to them and asked Murdock as she snapped on a latex glove, "What'll it be, sweetheart?"

Murdock did another double take and about fell out of his chair as he explained to the woman, "Not me, _her_!"

"I want to be a redhead again," Frankie told the woman, "I used to have really red hair like that one rock star…oh, what was his name?"

"Cyndi Lauper?" Murdock suggested.

"No no no, that's not it," Frankie shook her head, "I know, it was Ziggy Stardust."

"_That_," Murdock corrected her, "Was David Bowie."

"Yeah that, that's what I want to look like," Frankie told the woman, "You got any of that red hot red peroxide here?"

The woman restrained from laughing and said, "I'll see what we can do."

* * *

"Hey, where's Murdock?" Face asked Hannibal and B.A. when he and Mad Dog went downstairs and found the two men in the lobby looking over a piece of paper.

"And where's Frankie?" Mad Dog added.

"I don't know," Hannibal said, "They weren't here when we got back, it looks like Murdock left us a note."

"Well what's it say?" Face asked.

Hannibal turned the note upside down, to the side, and then right side up again and said, "I'm not sure."

"Let me see," Face grabbed it, "I think I'm getting to be an expert on his handwriting after all these…" Face read over the note a couple of times and his lips started moving to match what he was reading, and on the fourth try sound started coming out, but instead he looked back to the colonel and asked, "Hannibal, what the hell is this?"

"That's what I'm trying to figure out," Hannibal said, "It looks like he wrote 'Going Chinese, barbecue sweet'."

"That can't be right," Face said as he looked over the note again, "I think he wrote 'Getting chickenpox, boil bed sheets'."

B.A. snatched the note from him and said, "It says 'Gone crazy'."

"It doesn't say _that_, B.A.," Face told him.

B.A. turned to him and said, "It ought to, it's true."

"This is worse than playing telephone," Face grumbled.

"It says 'Gone to city, be back soon'," Murdock said as he and Frankie stepped in the hotel's revolving door.

"Well how about that? Murdock you ought to be a doctor, your handwriting's lousy enough for the job," Face said.

"Don't give him any ideas, Face," B.A. warned him.

"Hey," Hannibal said as he saw Frankie, now a new fiery redhead, "What happened to you?"

"When we find Masterson, I want him to think he's seeing ghosts," was her only explanation.

"I don't believe it," Face said, he turned to Murdock and asked him, "Were you a part of this?"

"I guess you could say that," Murdock said.

Face noticed that Murdock had his ball cap pulled down tighter than usual and tried to grab it to see why, but Murdock took a step back from him and kept it pressed down tight.

"What's wrong, Murdock?" Hannibal asked.

Murdock looked at the others and let out a sigh and removed his cap.

Face felt his eyes grow wide as he asked, "What happened to your hair?"

Murdock smiled sheepishly as if trying to come up with some way to possibly justify his new look and said only, "I think it looks good."

"He told them to lighten it up a bit, he wanted to see how he'd look as a blonde," Frankie explained, "After that he asked them to do something with it to give it a little body, so…I don't know _what_ they did but they managed to give it a little wave."

"Man ain't right, Hannibal," B.A. groaned.

"Well it still beats the alternative," Frankie said, "As I told him, people with alopecia have a hair wave all their own."

"They do?" Face asked.

"Yeah," Frankie waved, "Bye-bye."

Face groaned and murmured to B.A., "Never mind Murdock, if there's one thing I can't stand it's a comedian."

"So where do we stand currently, Hannibal?" Murdock asked, "Any sign of this slime ball Masterson yet?"

"Not yet," Hannibal said, "He's either locked in his room or out in the city somewhere."

"Well we didn't see him," Murdock said.

"Well," Hannibal's gaze turned towards the ceiling and said, "There's got to be a way to get into his room and find out."

"Watch it," Murdock told the others as he looked at Hannibal, "The man's _thinking_."

"Now we're in trouble," Frankie said.

* * *

Hannibal managed to catch Sheila alone when she was on her break and he asked her, "Did you know the men who came here on the carrier?"

"I met them once," she said, "I was little at the time. They seemed like nice men."

"When did they die?" Hannibal asked.

"I really can't remember," she said, "Two of them died when I was still a kid, but the third one, Mr. Smith, he died back in 1978."

"You won't believe it," Hannibal told her, "But I think he was my cousin, I'd always heard how he drowned at sea, he was never found."

Sheila's eyes widened slightly at this revelation and she said, "I'm terribly sorry."

"When did you start working at the hotel?" he asked.

"About four years ago, right after Mr. Smith died," Sheila answered, "He lived at this hotel for several years, he was one of the 'celebrity' guests here."

Hannibal had a sneaking suspicion that he was starting to get onto something and he asked Sheila, "Which room did he stay in?"

"Room 16B on the second floor," Sheila said.

"Would it be possible for me to see it?" he asked, "I'd like to see where my ol' cousin spent his final years."

"Well that room is occupied right now," she said, "By a Mister Richard Masterson."

"Is he expected to check out anytime soon?" Hannibal asked.

"No, he's a regular around here, comes in every couple of months, stays a couple weeks, and he just got here a couple days ago," Sheila said, "But I _do_ believe he's out at the moment, I can get the spare key and he wouldn't have to know."

"Oh that would be just fine," Hannibal told her.

It had been a good cover story where he was concerned, but there had been truth in it; granted the hotel room didn't appear to be any different than their own rooms, but knowing that this was where his cousin had lived for so long…he couldn't describe it, but he felt a sense of satisfaction as he stood in the room and looked at the furniture and décor. The vibe he was getting sure as hell wasn't coming from knowing Masterson was occupying this room, but for _one_ person anyway, he could feel an air of peace in the room. He had to laugh, _peace_, the single most offensive word in the English language during the time of the Vietnam War, and leave it to his cousin, he just had to go and do the unpopular thing five years before it became popular to be hated for peace. For whatever reason, for better or worse, he went against orders and completely ruined whatever plans the boys in Washington had in mind for that carrier and all the aircraft it was supposed to move across the ocean. He had done what he thought was right, and a horrible price had still been paid at the lives of the crew who hadn't survived the storm. But, Hannibal realized, perhaps it was still a lesser price than what would've happened if the men involved had just blindly followed orders. He knew only too well how easy those could just blow up in your face, he'd been hunted by the Army and government for 10 years because he and his men had done what they were told.

He kept his mind on the work at hand and the reason he had come here. When Sheila wasn't looking, Hannibal planted a bug in the phone so they'd be able to pick up on any conversations Masterson had while he was on the island. He didn't bother with bugging the room in general, he really wasn't under the impression that this was a very popular man who would have any friends come back here with him.

"Thanks for letting me have a look around," he told Sheila when they left the room, "I really got a good feeling being in there."

And now they just had to wait for the spider to reenter his own lair.


	12. Chapter 12

"Hey guys, guess what I just found?" Murdock said as he came running into his room that Frankie and Mad Dog were currently using.

"Whatever it is, keep it to yourself," Frankie said.

"No, this hotel has a big arcade room, it's got everything, video games, pool, ping pong, foosball, air hockey, it's fantastic!" he exclaimed.

"So what?" Frankie asked.

"So!" he replied, "You need a partner for the table games, _and_ it's right across from the hotel's dining room, meaning if we time it right we might be able to spy on Faceman during his date tonight."

"Hey he might have something there, Frankie, it might be fun," Mad Dog said, "Lord knows we could use some of that after the last couple years we've had."

Frankie looked from him back to the pilot and said, "Alright, I guess we'll go."

"Hey look on the bright side, Frankie," Mad Dog said as he got up from the bed, "If we catch sight of Masterson we can stone him to death with the skee-balls."

"Yeah!" Frankie perked up at that thought, "Now _there's_ an idea. It's too bad the arcade room don't come with a bowling alley, we could just club him to death with one of the tenpins."

"Are you _sure_ you come from California?" Murdock asked as they left the room to join the others for dinner.

"Yeah, why?" Frankie asked.

"Oh…no reason," Murdock smiled sheepishly, doing a terrible job of covering up what he was thinking, "Just seemed to me you seem more like stock from New Jersey or New York or someplace like that." An idea hit him and he turned on his heel and told Mad Dog, "You go on ahead, I've got a quick question for my cousin and then we'll join you guys for dinner."

"What's up, Murdock?" Frankie asked as they sidestepped into a corner in the hallway.

"I was just wondering," he said, "Let's say that we find this guy Masterson, rather let's say he manages to find you, _alone_, what's he likely to do to you?"

"Alive or dead?" Frankie asked.

"You think he'd kill you?"

"Why not?" Frankie asked, "If for some reason he finds out he _still_ can't have me he might decide nobody else can either."

"Hmmm," Murdock chewed on that one and said, "Well, let's say you find him, what are _you_ likely to do to him?"

"I don't know, why?" she asked.

"I just had a thought," he said as he grabbed a handful of her newly dyed hair and said, "I saw a movie once, this woman put razor blades in her hair, and when somebody tried to grab her, they cut their hands open. Maybe you ought to try that incase he'd try grabbing you like this."

"Murdock," Frankie said as she pushed him back, "They gotta get some _new_ movies in at the V.A. for you guys to watch."

"Well? It's worth trying, isn't it?" he asked.

"It might, so long as none of your friends out there gets funny and tries doing this number," Frankie patted the thin air up by her head and said, "Nice pussy, nice pussy." She cocked her head at him and said, "Somehow I don't put it past you guys to try something kooky like that."

"Frankie cous, you've got a lot to learn," Murdock told her as they resumed heading towards the stairs.

* * *

Frankie's eyes never stopped moving the whole time they sat down to dinner. She never saw Masterson come in, though Hannibal had gone up to their room twice during the meal and found out that the tape recorder that was hooked up to the bug in Masterson's phone hadn't been activated by any calls incoming or outgoing. So assuming Masterson had even bothered coming back to the hotel yet, he was keeping to himself for the time being.

"I don't get it," Frankie said over dinner, "Why'd you bug his phone? Assuming he _is_ seeing someone out here, what do you think that's going to prove? He hardly strikes me as the type of guy who would work with a partner."

"That might be," Hannibal told her, "But you can be sure he's got his hands dirty on more things than just murder, and if we _can't_ get him on that when we get him back to America maybe we can dig up some other dirt on him."

Frankie stabbed her fork into her steak and said, "You _don't _think you're going to get him on the murder, do you?"

"It's a gamble, kid, first of all we can't prove he even knew her, for another we still don't know if that even was the actual murder weapon he left behind at the scene of the crime," he explained.

Frankie lost her appetite and pushed her plate back. Murdock excused himself and had Mad Dog and Frankie follow him towards the game room, by his calculations Face ought to be showing up soon for dinner with his date.

"Your unshakable leader has just been stirred and poured," Frankie told Murdock, "He doesn't think you're going to get Masterson, we came all this way for nothing!"

"We don't know that yet," Murdock said, "These things take time to get to the bottom of, you're just going to have to be patient."

"Well do me a favor, will you, Murdock?" Frankie asked, "If we _can't_ catch Masterson, don't bother taking us back with you."

"What, leave you two here?" Murdock asked in disbelief.

"Maybe not," Frankie replied, "If B.A. is so hellbent on going back on a boat instead of flying, then I say let him, and maybe get Hannibal and Face to go with him, you can say you'll fly us back on the plane and on the way make a detour landing on one of the neighboring islands, maybe drop us off in the Bahamas somewhere or maybe Haiti or Jamaica or over between Central and South America. All I know is there's no justice for us if we can't nail this guy, and there's _nothing_ for us to go back home for, they _could_ chase us for the rest of our lives over the globe, but I doubt anybody's going to bother looking for us out of the country. So we can start over again somewhere where nobody knows us and live our lives out in peace for once."

It sounded to Murdock like Frankie had been planning this for a while. Had probably been working on it the whole plane ride out there, despite being unconscious for the most part of it. And she had a point, and how could he say no? But he couldn't say yes either, he knew that.

"Frankie, we're going to catch this guy, believe me," he told her.

"I wish I could, Murdock," Frankie shook her head sadly, "But I've been screwed over too many times already to have much hope left, and even your colonel doesn't think it can be pulled off, that doesn't say a whole hell of a lot for our chances to survive this."

* * *

Face had been anticipating a nice, quiet, romantic night with a woman he'd met in the hotel, a 20-something blonde named Cynthia Wilson, who had dressed for the evening, appropriately he thought, in a black halter dress that nicely showed off the tan she'd been getting on the beach. And it _would've_ bee a nice, quiet, romantic night, if some idiots over in the game room would shut up; all the whooping and yelling coming from across the hall was almost enough to drown out their dinner conversation. But he decided to try and ignore it and just enjoy his company.

As they lifted their wine glasses and drank, Cynthia looked at him and asked, "Is that a tan line on your finger, Templeton?"

"What?" he looked down, and mentally cursed himself. He'd had Amy assist him on their last mission going in posing as a married couple, and he'd gotten that damn phony wedding band stuck on his finger and couldn't get it off for two days and they'd been staying at a seaside resort where there was no shortage of sunshine, and suntan, and sunburn. Needless to say it left one hell of an impression…that was the last time he decided to let Murdock help him pick out the accessories for his scam.

"Uh…" he thought quickly, "Yes, you see I'm a widower, _finally_ decided it was time to take the ring off and start again."

"Oh, I'm so sorry," she said.

Hey, pity worked about as well as anything, sometimes even better than anything else he could come up with to move the evening along.

"Oh that's alright," he said, deciding once they left this island he wasn't going to see this woman ever again, so why the hell not? "I have the children to help get me through it."

"You have children?" she asked.

"Yes, three little darlings," he said, "They're staying with their grandmother for the time being, I decided that it was time I got back out into the dating world again and got involved with someone again."

The noises from the game room were getting even louder and he heard one particularly loud noise that he couldn't identify, but it sounded familiar. A second later he turned and saw a ping pong ball flying into the room, and then he heard Cynthia scream as it went down the plunging neckline of her dress.

Oh boy, Face groaned to himself as he cupped one hand over one side of his face in embarrassment, this was not going to end well.

Cynthia managed to retrieve the ball without sacrificing her dignity, though she looked about as riled up as a wet dog fresh out of the bath. Face palmed the ball from her and said as he got up from the table, "I'll see that this gets returned to its rightful owner and I'll give him a piece of my mind for both of us."

"Hey Face!" Murdock called as he entered the dining area, "You see my ping pong ball?"

Oh no. Face took in a slow inhale, he knew this wasn't going to end well.

"Don't tell me," Cynthia said dryly, "Is this your oldest boy?"

"Uh, well…" Face tried to decide how to answer that.

"Oop," Murdock said, "Sorry to interrupt your date, don't mind me."

"A little late for that, Murdock," Face told him, "Take your ball and go away, alright?"

"Alright, cranky!" Murdock replied, "What's the matter, it land in your dinner?"

"Not exactly," Face remarked.

Murdock returned to the game room where he'd left Frankie and Mad Dog hanging figuratively, over on the other side of the ping pong table.

"What happened?" Frankie asked.

"Oh nothing," Murdock said as he bounced the ball on the tabletop and hit it, "Face is just mad because we bothered him."

"Well," Frankie summed up, "Sucks to be him."

* * *

After about an hour in the game room, Murdock, Mad Dog and Frankie went back upstairs and held up in Murdock's room. Frankie found a new pack of disposable razor blades in the bathroom cabinet and looked at herself in the mirror and pulled up a few tufts of her hair and considered Murdock's suggestion from earlier when he called her to join them in the bedroom.

"What is it?" she asked as she walked out of the bathroom.

"Alright, do you have any idea if this guy Masterson ever served in the military?" Murdock asked her.

"I doubt it," Frankie said.

"Perfect!" Murdock said, "I'm gonna teach you a few combat techniques I learned in the military, that way if he tries to pull anything funny you can get the drop on him."

"Oh boy," Frankie murmured as she folded her arms.

"Now this is _very_ easy stuff," Murdock assured her, "I'm going to teach it to you guys _just_ like we learned. Frankie, we'll use you to demonstrate first, come over here."

"Okay," Frankie went over to him, "Now what?"

"Now I'm Masterson, and I grab you by your wrist like this, what're you going to do?" Murdock asked.

Frankie brought her foot up and kicked him in the groin, he let go of her and fell on his knees gasping and choking.

"That works too," he choked, "But that's not what I had in mind." He got up again and said, "Alright, he grabs your wrist, you use your free hand, reach over and grab your other hand."

Frankie did and asked, "Now what?"

"Now you pull upwards against my thumbs."

"Huh?" Frankie asked.

"Just try it," he said.

Frankie did, and he said, "Then you elbow him in the jaw."

Frankie drew her elbow back but just before she could do it, Murdock stepped to the side and said, "Whoa! Alright, I think you get it."

"Now what?" Frankie asked.

At that moment the door opened and Face stepped in, and he immediately asked them, "What's going on?"

"You're just in time, Face," Murdock said, "I need somebody to help with this demonstration. You come over here, and you're going to be Masterson trying to attack."

"What's going on?" Face repeated.

"Murdock's trying to teach us some combat defensive moves," Frankie explained.

"Oh fun," Face dryly remarked.

"Now this time we'll say he attacks from behind," Murdock said, "Face, grab her."

"What?"

"Do it."

"Aw geez," Face groaned as he got behind Frankie and wrapped his arms around her.

"Now what?" Frankie asked.

"Timing is everything, you gotta be fast," Murdock said, "So quick, move your feet apart, now, bend your legs and reach between them and grab him by his ankle."

"I know I'm not gonna like this," Face said to nobody in particular.

"Now you come up quick and pull his foot up with you," Murdock said.

"I knew it!" Face said as he was thrown off balance and fell on his back.

"Now the final move is the most important," Murdock said, "Stomp him in the groin."

"What?!" Face shot up, "Forget it, I'm done as the dummy!"

"I'm telling you guys," Murdock said, "These will work on anybody if you do it right."

"Oh yeah?" Mad Dog asked.

"Yeah," Murdock replied.

The door opened and B.A. came in and Murdock said, "I'll prove it."

"Oh boy," Mad Dog and Frankie said in unison.

"B.A.," Murdock went over to the sergeant, "Will you help me with something? I'm trying to teach these two some of the combat moves we learned in the army incase Masterson manages to catch them alone and attacks."

"Alright, what do you need me for?" B.A. asked.

"I want you to demonstrate by coming up behind and grabbing me," Murdock said.

B.A. shrugged and said, "Alright."

B.A. came up behind Murdock and wrapped his massive arms around the pilot's chest. Murdock brought his arms up and clamped them over B.A.'s and then bent his knees and tried pulling on B.A.'s arms to throw him off his back, but it didn't work. Murdock stayed half kneeling on the floor turning blue in the face from trying to toss the 230 pounds of angry mudsucker and 30 pounds of gold off his back, but all he got for it was a nice resemblance to the inside of a blueberry pie.

"Works on anybody, eh?" Frankie asked.

"Well," Murdock said as B.A. finally let go of him, "Masterson's not as heavy as B.A., at least I hope he's not."

"Alright Murdock, now it's my turn and _you're_ going to demonstrate," B.A. told him, he turned to the two kids and said, "Now this is something you both gotta know, but if this sucker's gonna come after either of you, it's most likely gonna be you," he said as he pointed to Frankie, "So you get over here."

"I'm getting tired of this," Frankie said as she went back to the center of the room.

"Alright Murdock, now _you_ grab her from behind," B.A. told him.

Murdock did as he was told and snaked his arms around Frankie's arms and chest, "Alright, now what?"

"Alright," B.A. told Frankie, "You reach down and reach behind you and grab him by his…"

"B.A.!" Murdock said as he realized what the sergeant was setting him up for.

"Grab him and twist hard, and keep your head down," B.A. said, a little evil mischievous glare in his eyes as he ordered her around, "If he's still hanging on to you after that, bring your head back and head butt him in the face. Then kick him in the leg and stomp on his foot, that ought to do it."

"Well I should sure as hell _hope_ so!" Murdock replied as he let go of Frankie and moved away from her.

B.A. just laughed and said, "You the one who brought it up fool, well this is what we learned."

"If we can even remember half of that," Mad Dog said, "Masterson's going to be dead meat."

"But if these guys get him first he'll be charbroiled well done," Frankie added, "Which is fine with me, we can't tar and feather him here but we could sure enough throw him on a bonfire."

"Hey Face," Murdock said, "How'd things go with your date?"

"Well, considering she never wants to see me again I guess it went rather well," he said.

"Was that because of us?" Mad Dog asked.

"Well that was part of it, another part was when B.A. came charging in and about scared her off, all because Hannibal just _had_ to see me about something."

"What's that?" Frankie asked.

"Oh, nothing really," Face answered, not wanting to get into what the conversation had really been about. What it had really been about was Hannibal suggesting they all take turns through the night making sure that neither Frankie nor Murdoch got out of their rooms and slipped out to find Masterson. Face didn't really think either of them had it in them to do that, both of them seemed to be terrified of the man, but he agreed, and as soon as they had a moment alone he was going to pass the memo on to Murdock.

* * *

Murdock got the message and so only pretended to fall asleep when he and Frankie were alone in the room that night. He watched through one eye and watched Frankie as she lay awake in bed and looked out the window. Then she got up and, since she thought Murdock was asleep, she went over to the wall that separated their room from Face's room. She put her ear against the wall and listened first, and then she tapped on the wall lightly. Murdock had to strain to hear but he was able to hear a matching tap come back from the other side of the wall. Apparently Mad Dog couldn't sleep either. He couldn't sleep, Frankie couldn't sleep, and Murdock knew he _wasn't_ going to get any sleep, boy he wished it was earlier in the night so they'd have an excuse for being up and doing something. That way Hannibal or B.A. couldn't come storming in and tell them to be quiet and go to bed. Sometimes the colonel tended to take his paternal role over his Team a little _too_ seriously for Murdock's liking.

As he lay in bed, pretending to be asleep, Murdock scrambled his brain trying to think of something they could do, some way he could get Face and Mad Dog out of their room, and the four of them could do something together. They might not get any sleep tonight but at least everybody wouldn't have to be on edge like this. What to do, what to do, what to do? He thought about it for a long time, and then finally had an idea come to him. He remembered earlier when he was touring the hotel and seeing what all there was to the place, that like a lot of hotels, it had a gift shop; mainly just a bunch of postcards and trinkets to send to people back home wherever that was. But he did remember one of the larger items being sold there that seemed so out of place for a tropical island, but it gave him an idea.

* * *

WHACK!

Hannibal's eyes popped open before he could fully distinguish what that sound was he'd just heard. His room was still dark, what time was it? He found the clock and saw that it was 2 o' clock in the morning. What was going on?

Ah, then he heard the voices through the open window, there was somebody down below on the hotel grounds. But wait a minute…those voices sounded oddly familiar. Hannibal kicked back the covers and went over to the window and looked out to see what was going on. He was surprised, and then relieved.

Down below on the grounds he could see several large torches had been lit to throw some light on the subject, and the subject seemed to be a game of baseball. Baseball? Where did Murdock get…oh never mind, it was futile to ask where Murdock ever got anything he did. Hannibal folded his arms on the windowsill and let his head droop on top of them as he watched the game down below. He could hear Murdock jabbering away like a heckler at the game as they switched positions; Mad Dog put the bat down and went over to a base Murdock had drawn on the ground with a stick in the dirt, and Frankie took his place where the home plate should've been. Frankie picked up the bat, and Hannibal noticed that for her being right handed she assumed a left handed batting position; Face had the ball and he delivered the windup, and the pitch.

**WHACK!**

It sounded like the bat cracked on impact, but all that happened was the ball was hit and flew _clear_ out of the game. Frankie jumped up and down a couple of times then dropped the bat and took off running around the diamond. Murdock came into the middle of it like an empire and started making a lot of signals with his hands that all seemed like a lot of sign language gibberish.

Well, Hannibal thought with relief, at least Murdock had found a way that they could keep an eye on their two new companions for the night and make sure nothing happened. He got up and went back to his bed and slipped back under the warm covers and decided that given he'd learned to sleep through the gunfire of two wars, he could also sleep through the noise of a baseball game.


	13. Chapter 13

Hannibal decided after the game last night to let the others sleep in until close to 9 o' clock, then he and B.A. went to deliver the wakeup call. They found Murdock's room empty and that the bed had been made during the night and hadn't been slept in since. Not ready to get into a panic, they went next door to Face's room and found four people asleep in various positions. Frankie and Murdoch were asleep in Face's bed, while Murdock and Face had fallen asleep on the floor in their clothes. Murdock was sprawled out on his back and had one leg swung over Face's body and his foot very close to the lieutenant's face; except that sometime during the night he'd turned his head to the other side to get away from the smell of Murdock's foot. Hannibal chuckled to himself, he almost hated to wake everybody up, _almost_, but that didn't stop him from yelling at the top of his lungs, "ALRIGHT EVERYBODY, WAKE UP! THE SUN'S UP!"

Everybody shot up half awake and either scared out of their minds by the sudden bellowing or too tired to even acknowledge what they'd just heard. One by one they all fell back down and tried going back to sleep. Hannibal stepped over to the lieutenant and captain on the floor first to make sure they were paying attention.

"Hey, Colonel," Murdock tiredly saluted.

"What time is it?" Face asked as he squinted his eyes shut against the bright light.

Hannibal went over to the bed and kicked the bedstead to get the attention of the two occupants buried under the covers. Frankie weakly brought her head up long enough to say to him, "Tell the sun to come back tomorrow," and she turned over on her stomach and buried her face under a pillow.

"So who won the game last night?" Hannibal inquired humorously.

"Don't ask," Face grumbled as he slowly got to his feet.

Hannibal laughed again and stopped as his nose picked up a familiar scent of something burning. It wasn't like when he smoked his cigars, something had been burnt in this room recently. He looked around for any sign of smoke or anything that suddenly bore resemblance to a Cajun recipe, blackened to perfection, and didn't see anything. Hell, he didn't even see anything that could've been used to burn something with. For the moment he forgot about it and helped Murdock and Face get up, but decided that Frankie and Mad Dog could stay in bed; he figured if they were asleep then there wasn't any way they could get in trouble. Face grumbled to himself as he grabbed a change of clothes for the day and went into the bathroom, Murdock retreated back to his own room to freshen up, leaving just Hannibal and B.A. to oversee things.

Hannibal looked over to the dresser and saw a couple of fat candles on glass saucers and he saw that one of them had been used recently, the wax hadn't melted enough to show, but he wick was black and shriveled. And on the saucer…Hannibal marched over and snatched up the charred remains of half of a postcard. It had come from the hotel gift shop and the message had been burnt away, but he was still able to read most of the name and address it was to be sent to: Frankie's parents back in California.

What, Hannibal wondered, would someone who resented her parents so much possibly write them for now? And what could have been the message that she obviously ultimately decided served a better purpose as ash? He could think of a few possibilities though none of them were nice, maybe that was why it had been burnt but he really doubted it. Hannibal gazed at the burnt card as if trying to read what had been burnt away, like a carbon copy had remained. The first thought that came to mind had been a typical child's greeting of 'I hate you', another, a more mature approach that cut to both chase and bone, 'Why didn't you listen?', but another thought came to Hannibal, and he didn't know from where, but he could just as easily picture the message being, 'How could you do this to us?' Well, he knew he'd never get an answer out of Frankie, so he pocketed the card and left the room with B.A.

* * *

That day, while Murdock had made it his business to check out the hotel's swimming pool and try it out, Face made it his business to get acquainted with some of the bathing beauties tanning nearby since his date the previous night had been a bust. As it turned out, it wasn't just one woman he was a bust with, today he couldn't win for losing; all the women he chatted up either had their boyfriends with them or they were married, or they had an older brother who was twice Face's size and didn't appreciate him putting the moves on their little sisters. After about an hour he gave up and went over to the pool to converse with Murdock, who was splashing around in the water like a toddler learning how to kick.

"Hey Murdock!" he said to be heard over the noise.

Murdock stopped flapping around in the water and turned to him and said, "Hey Face, what's up?"

"Have you seen Mad Dog or Frankie anywhere?"

"Nope," he answered, "I guess they're still in the hotel."

"You know," Face said as he sat down by the edge of the pool and waded in the water, "Hannibal hasn't said one thing today about if Masterson is back in the hotel or not, I wonder what's going on?"

Murdock shrugged and tried mounting a giant green inflatable inner tube, and promptly fell off and made a big splash as he fell under the surface, and totally soaked Face in the process.

"Nice, Murdock, _real_ nice," Face dryly remarked as he wiped the water off of his face with the back of his hand.

Murdock resurfaced gasping for breath and he pointed behind them and said, "Speak of the devil, here they come now."

Face turned and saw Mad Dog and Frankie coming towards the pool but neither looked like they were going swimming; they were dressed in T-shirts and shorts from the hotel's gift shop.

"Hey guys, come to join us?" Face asked.

"Not really," Mad Dog answered, "But Hannibal thought it'd be a good idea if we blended in with the other tourists here."

Murdock spat out a mouthful of water like a fish and said, "Hey Frankie cous, the water's great, why don't you guys come in?"

"Forget it," she said, "I don't swim."

"Oh it's very easy, any idiot can learn," Murdock said, "Even Face knows how to swim."

Face glared at him and said flatly, "Thanks a lot, Murdock."

"Well you know what I mean," Murdock told him.

"No thanks," Frankie insisted, "I intend to stay on dry land."

"Aww," Murdock waved her off, "You' probably the type of person that could get seasick in the bathtub."

* * *

"It don't make no sense, Hannibal, what's it mean?" B.A. wanted to know when he found out that their guest of honor still hadn't returned to his hotel room.

"Well," Hannibal said as he pondered the situation over a new cigar, "It's unlikely that Masterson could've found out that anybody was here looking for him, let alone that Mad Dog is busted out of the hospital, or even that Frankie has also gone AWOL. And since it's unlikely he has a partner who can tip him off on anything, it stands to reason that either he's here to see somebody about another matter entirely, or he's here to work his sociopathic charm on another woman."

"Now that's gonna be bad if it turns out he and Face are both seeing the same lady," B.A. said.

"Well you know how it is when Face gets involved with a woman who already has a boyfriend, her boyfriend tends to make himself known very quickly, so if that _is_ the case, we should find out soon enough," Hannibal said as they walked out towards the pool.

"And if it ain't the case?" B.A. asked.

"Well it's a small island, our paths are bound to cross sooner or later," Hannibal answered.

"Yeah, but what happens when they do?" B.A. wanted to know.

"Obviously we're going to have to find some way to get him on that plane and get him back to the United States so he can face prosecution for the murder," Hannibal said.

"Fine, sucker can go in my place," B.A. told him, "I ain't flying back there, Hannibal."

"B.A.," Hannibal said, "Why do you always have to be so stubborn? In all the times that Murdock has flown us on missions has anything _ever_ gone wrong?"

"Yes."

"Have we ever crashed?"

"Yes," B.A. answered.

"Were _you_ ever injured in those crashes?" Hannibal asked.

"No," B.A. said.

"So why are _you_ of all people complaining?" he wanted to know, "You have it easiest, you sleep through the whole flight and if anything goes wrong you're the only one to walk away without anything busted or bruised. Look, if Frankie can take sleeping pills to pass through the flight without anxiety, why can't you? It would certainly save us the trouble of trying to slip something into your sandwich."

B.A. glared at him through the corner of one eye and said, "Hey man, don't even joke about that, one of these days Hannibal, I'm going to get you for all those times."

Hannibal maintained his usual coy smirk and said, "Of course you will, B.A."

They went out to the pool and saw Murdock in the water with his arms folded on the tiling around the pool as he talked to Frankie and M.D.

"How's it going, guys?" he asked.

"Hannibal, will you talk some sense into them?" Murdock asked.

"He's upset because they won't swim with him," Face explained and pointed to Frankie, "But she _can't_ swim."

"Ridiculous," Murdock scoffed, "All us Murdocks are excellent swimmers."

"Then it must've skipped a generation," B.A. told him, "_Yours_."

"I can _too_ swim!" Murdock insisted, seeming very close to throwing a tantrum.

B.A. hunched over to look down at the pilot and said, "I said you _can't_ swim, sucker."

"I can!"

"No you can't," B.A. said.

"Yes I can!" Murdock insisted.

"No you can't."

"Yes I can!"

"No you – hey!" B.A. lost his balance and fell in when Frankie came up behind him and kicked him, resulting in a particularly _killer_ splash.

"Do you have a death wish or something?" Face asked her.

B.A. rose to the surface and spat out a mouthful of water that hit Murdock and Face in a spray, after he caught his breath he opened his eyes and focused them on the person who sent him into the pool, "Hey! What was that about?"

Frankie looked down at him with an almost blank look on her face and she said with just a hint of satisfaction at her deed, "You looked a little steamed, so I thought I'd help you cool off."

Hannibal just chuckled in response.

* * *

"A postcard?" Face asked later when they returned to the hotel and Hannibal was able to speak to him alone, "No, I didn't know anyone had any, and I don't remember anyone burning anything last night either."

"Then it must've happened after you and Murdock fell asleep," Hannibal said, "Since it was addressed to the Murdocks it's a safe bet that Frankie was the one that filled it out. Just to make sure though, I tested Mad Dog, I told him I was going to have Amy back in L.A. run a check on the case and the people involved and had him write a letter for me using the same words that were left on the other half of the card. His handwriting doesn't match, so Frankie has to be the one who wrote her parents."

"The question is why?" Face asked, "If what she says is true…"

"If?" Hannibal asked and turned to him, "You don't think she's telling the truth?"

"I don't know, I'm just saying, if her parents did what she said they did, _why_ would she try making contact with them now?" Face asked.

"She might be looking for closure," Hannibal suggested, "No matter how horrible your parents are, you never just walk away and cut them off."

"I wouldn't know," Face reminded him.

"I know you wouldn't," Hannibal replied, "But I knew a lot of young soldiers in the Army, a lot of them barely even old enough to drive, and a lot of them joined not because of the draft, but because it was their idea and it was a supreme rebellion against their parents who didn't want a dead hero for a son. Some of them came in, coming from a long line of fights with their parents about everything and joining the army was just the last straw, all of them, swearing they'd never speak to their parents again, and the ones who lived to go back home, couldn't wait to see them again once they got back to the States."

"I can understand that but do you think Frankie's feeling the same way?" Face asked.

"Not necessarily," Hannibal said, "But closure doesn't have to mean she's thrilled to see them again either. However I think there's something more important we have to get to the bottom of right now."

"What's that?" Face asked.

"I had M.D. take that note when I was shaving earlier, and when I looked in the mirror," Hannibal tilted his head back to expose his neck and said, "I saw something that sparked my memory."

"What's that?" Face asked.

"See this scar?" Hannibal pointed to his throat.

"What scar?" Face asked.

"Well, they told me it would fade over the years, but I never believed it, that's a scar from a tonsillectomy, I had my tonsils taken out as a kid. And I had to stay in the hospital overnight, and I don't think I ever slept until I got out of there. All I could think about was that crazy woman trying to kill me."

"What?" Face was lost.

"Oh yeah, I keep forgetting that's before your time," Hannibal said, "Well, when I was a kid I overheard my mother talking about this woman who was a nurse and she killed a lot of her patients, she also killed her sister, and an entire family she knew, and all of their landlords, by the time the law caught up with her she had about 30 bodies under her belt. And at that time she said her goal had been to kill more helpless people than anybody before ever had. That crazy bat was still alive when I was a kid, she was found not guilty and put in a mental asylum, she lived to be I think 81 years old. And when I was in that hospital I just kept thinking every time I heard someone walking down the hall, that she was out there coming for me, with a loaded syringe in her hand to poison me."

The look on Templeton's face was nothing short of amusing for _any_ situation, even given the somberness here it was almost hysterical. "Well that's all very interesting, Hannibal, but what does it have to do with us here?"

"My point," Hannibal concluded, "Is Murdock said when you guys found Mad Dog at the V.A., he was murmuring 'can't sleep, they'll kill me, can't sleep, they'll kill me'."

"Probably because of the lobotomy," Face said.

"Maybe, except the nurse told us that he hadn't slept in a week, why? The order for his operation only came in that morning when we found him," Hannibal said.

"Well they said that the orderlies beat him up," Face remembered.

"That's true too, but I want to speak to Mad Dog and I want to do it _without_ Frankie there to speak for him," Hannibal said.

"Good luck with that, how're you going to get the two of them apart?" Face asked.

* * *

"I don't _want_ to go swimming!" Frankie protested as she dragged her feet while Murdock tried to pull her towards the hotel's exit.

"Come on, Frankie cous, there ain't been a Murdock in our family who couldn't swim, you're not going to break tradition now, are you?"

"Yes!" Frankie answered firmly as she pulled away from him.

"Come on, Frankie, you gotta know how to swim, what happens if we have to bail out of the plane over the ocean?"

"I intend to be knocked out anyway so it won't make me any difference," she insisted.

"I can see I'm going to have to get forceful with you," Murdock said.

"And how do you intend to HEY!" Frankie exclaimed as she felt something grab her from behind and lift her up. She looked down and saw that it was B.A. carrying her towards the door, Frankie writhed in his grip and kicked her legs and said, "Put me down!"

"Shut up!" Murdock replied with a grunt as if he was the one carrying her as the three of them made their way out the door.

Face watched from the foot of the stairs and when they were gone he raced back up to join Hannibal and Mad Dog on the 4th floor.

"Alright, they're gone," he said.

"Good," Hannibal said, "Now Mad Dog, I want to ask you a question and I wanted to get _your_ answer on this, not Frankie's. When you were locked up in the hospital, did you believe somebody was trying to kill you?"

"I thought everybody was," Mad Dog answered, "The orderlies, the doctors, the nurses, anybody who came in and stuck me with something or shoved their pills down my throat. The orderlies beat me to a pulp, nobody ever asked but if they ever did, they would've just said I fell, apparently you become very accident prone once you enter a hospital."

"I can understand that, but did you actually think someone was trying to murder you?" Hannibal asked.

"I suspected everybody," he answered, "I knew I wasn't insane, but they put me in there anyway, my lawyer said it was to avoid going to prison, but if you ever had to spend a night in that place you'd be begging for jail."

"Was there anybody in particular who stuck out, who you thought might have it in for you?" Hannibal asked.

He thought about it for a minute and shook his head, "I don't think so, why?"

"No reason," Hannibal said, "Just thought I might have hit on something. M.D., last night Frankie wrote out a postcard to her parents, and then she burnt it, do you know anything about that?"

He shook his head again, "I thought I smelled something burning, but I thought it was just a dream."

Hannibal thought of something else and he turned to Face and said, "When we get back to California, remind me to look up Mr. and Mrs. Murdock, I think we need to pay these people a visit."

"What good will that do?" Mad Dog asked, "They never even believed their own daughter, why would they listen to you?"

Hannibal turned back towards him and answered, "Simply because we're _not_ their daughter, they didn't believe Frankie because she was a kid, what reason would _we_ have to lie since we've never met any of you until a few days ago, and therefore have no stake in the matter whatsoever?"

"Well…" Mad Dog thought about it, "I guess it might work, but I still don't know. I guess I'm kind of worried about going back there, if you can't catch him, if you can't prove anything…"

"We'll worry about that bridge when we come to it," Hannibal said.

"And true to our military training, blow it up," Face added.

* * *

After they talked to Mad Dog and Hannibal decided they got all the information out of him they were going to for a while, Face decided to head on down to the pool and rescue Frankie from her watery torture. He was surprised to see when he got out to the pool that B.A. wasn't anywhere to be seen, but he did see Frankie and Murdock standing by the pool, both of them still looking as dry as a bone, and they seemed to be arguing about something. Well, Face was glad to know if there was a possibility that Frankie _was_ Murdock's family, it didn't mean she was exactly like him, nice to know somebody else finally didn't see things his way.

As Face got closer to them, realized that the pool area was almost empty; well, he had to admit as he squinted, the sun was in a bad position now, probably everybody got smart and went in where they wouldn't be blinded or have to worry about getting sunburn. Suddenly, something happened and Face thought he was seeing things, he couldn't believe what he saw, but he knew that he hadn't imagined it, Murdock had for no obvious reason, grabbed Frankie, picked her up, her kicking and screaming, and he callously tossed her into the pool and let her sink like a stone.

"Murdock!" Face yelped as he ran over to the pilot, "Murdock, what the hell do you think you're doing?"

"Face look!" Murdock pointed to the pool.

Face looked and saw Frankie emerge and she swam over to the edge and pulled herself out.

"She _can_ swim," Murdock told Face.

Now Face was confused, he turned to Frankie and asked her, "Why'd you lie?"

"I didn't lie," Frankie said as she pushed her wet hair back and rubbed her eyes, "I never said I _couldn't_ swim, I said I _don't_ swim, there's a big difference incase you didn't notice, everybody says they _can't_ swim, nobody admits that they _don't_."

"So why don't you?" Face asked.

"I have my reasons," she answered.

And Murdock had an idea of what it was, "A cover…you pretend you can't swim, and if somebody tries to take advantage of it and throws you in to drown you…"

"Then you come _right back up_ again and give them the surprise of their life," Face finished, then realizing what he'd done, he came to the conclusion that he was spending too much time with Murdock, all of them.

"I used to be a pretty good swimmer," Frankie told them, "Then when I went through my various personalities, I had to give it up for a while, suddenly I became afraid of the water, I thought that would tell my parents something was wrong as sure as anything, I was practically born in the water." She turned to Murdock and said, "How can two people be so blind and so _stupid_?"

Murdock shrugged helplessly and said, "Got me."

* * *

Before the night was over, Face was floating on a cloud of love, or a reasonable facsimile thereof anyway. He'd finally met an attractive young woman at the hotel who wasn't there with a boyfriend, a husband, or an older brother who could stomp him into the ground. Her name was Chastity, she was a tanned beach blonde, and she liked him. This time their date in the hotel managed to go off without a hitch and had no interruptions from 'the children', for which he was most grateful. He'd had a few too many drinks and so didn't exactly remember how he got upstairs or into bed, or even when he fell asleep, but when he did, he had a very unusual dream.

It started with the sound of drums, and chanting, it sounded like some kind of tribal celebration out in the jungle instead of on a tropical island. It was dark but he could also see some lights, like big torches lit throughout the island. He saw a young woman in a long white dress, a simple cotton dress with no design, just looked like one long undershirt. She walked barefoot through the sand, climbing up dirt and rocky hills towards the sound, and as she neared the source of the music, he could see her better. She had long blonde hair and a giant white flower in her hair that matched the dress perfectly. Down below the islanders were beating on drums and marching around in grass skirts and face paint and bone jewelry, chanting some kind of gibberish that he didn't understand.

The woman was found by two of the natives and led into the center of the celebration, and up there, a big fat native covered in enough paint to cover three other people, stood before the woman and said something that Face took to be a native translation of a wedding speech. The woman was joined by, presumably, the man she was to marry, his back was to Face's view but he was able to see it wasn't a native, and the man appeared to be tall, thin, with short brown hair, dressed like the natives in a grass skirt and bone necklaces. Face thought it was a very nice ceremony, until the bride and groom turned around and he realized it was Murdock with _his_ new girlfriend!

Face shot up in the bed and grabbed the pillow behind his head and instinctively reached over and whapped Murdock in the face with it. Murdock shot up in bed kicking and asked Face, "What is it? What's the matter?"

"That's for stealing my girlfriend," Face told him.

"What?" Murdock looked at Face as if _he_ were the crazy one.

Face ran one hand up over his forehead and all the way to the back of his head and saw they were in his room and it was dark, and realized it had been a dream and said, "Never mind, just a crazy dream."

Murdock grunted and said, "That's the best kind _to_ have."

Face looked around the room and said, a bit panicked, "Murdock, where're Frankie and Mad Dog?"

"Not to worry, Faceman," Murdock said as he pointed to the wall separating the rooms, "They're over in my room and I sent Billy to be a watchdog and watch them all night."

"Are you sure they're in there?" Face asked.

"Yeah I'm sure," Murdock answered.

Face laughed nervously and said, "Oh boy, what a dream I had…I heard these drums and this chanting, all these natives running around the island going 'ooh-da-da-eeh-da-da-do-da-do-da-do'."

Murdock started hitting the bedside table in the same rhythm and Face realized what a bad idea that was and he quickly cut the pilot off. "Anyway, I dreamt that there was a wedding taking place, and I look and it's you and my new girlfriend."

"Are you sure about that?" Murdock asked.

"Yeah, it was you, and it was a blonde woman in a white dress, who else could that be?" Face asked.

"Face," Murdock poked him, "Until the other day, Frankie was a blonde, and for all we know, that dress of hers left at the hospital _is_ a white dress."

"What!?" Face asked, wonder what the hell Murdock was going on about this time.

"Perhaps," Murdock tried his analysis hand on the lieutenant, "Your subconscious is suggesting that when this is over, Frankie and Mad Dog will be married, after all _he's_ a Murdock too, just a different kind of one, and they _did_ think _I_ was _him_ at the V.A."

That was enough to leave Face scratching his head for the rest of the night, or at least until he went back to sleep.

* * *

The next morning when Face woke up early, he had forgotten about his strange dream and about Murdock's diagnosis of it. All he remembered was beautiful, sexy, 34-26-36 Chastity, who was currently volunteering her services where needed at the hotel for the time being. He got dressed and went down to the kitchen where she was supposed to be helping cook breakfast for all the hotel guests, but one of the cooks told him that she was out helping unload the new inventory from the ship that had come in that day. Face went down to where the boat was docked for the time being and caught Chastity easing down a crate she'd caught from the crew. Face volunteered his own services and helped her collect several more crates of supplies for the hotel kitchen. They then loaded them into the back of the jeep and drove back to the hotel, where Face helped her unload the crates in the kitchen. The crates had been lined with newspapers from Florida and Face noticed that the shipment had only gone out over the last couple of days. He was just thinking what good timing the ship made, when he saw something on one of the papers that caught his immediate attention.

He unfolded the paper and read the headline story and reread it to make sure he wasn't mistaking, and he tore off for their rooms up on the fourth floor and busted into Hannibal's room, screaming, "HANNIBAL!"

The colonel shot up in the bed with a jerk and a yelp, then he fell back against the pillows and said, a bit more relaxed, "Coming, Ma."

"Hannibal, get up, it's an emergency," Face told him.

Hannibal opened his eyes and got up and asked, "What's the matter, Face?"

"Read the paper," Face said as he shoved it into the colonel's hands.

Hannibal rubbed one eye as he skimmed over the front page of the paper from two days ago, and he felt something inside of him stop as he saw what Face had been referring to.

The headline on the front page read 'U.S. Army Colonel and MP Injured in Pursuit of A-Team in L.A.'. Under the headline it explained that Colonel Francis Lynch of the U.S. Army, and one of the MPs in his command, had both been seriously injured two days ago when they tried to apprehend the A-Team.

Hannibal read aloud an excerpt from the article, "Military Police Officer James Youngman, 27, sustained a concussion after suffering several blows to the head, Colonel Lynch was also hospitalized with deep gashes that have been confirmed as stab wounds. Col. Lynch has made a statement that his attacker was _not_ one of the A-Team but refused to go into further details and has been advised by doctors against adding any further comments at this time." Hannibal tossed the paper down, suddenly he felt sick.

"They played us, Hannibal," Face said, ready to shoot through the roof, "They conned _us_! _They_ conned _us_! They feed us a sob story about how they were set up and we believed it! There can't be any other explanation, _one_ of those two is a murderer."

Hannibal grabbed the paper and looked at the article again and agreed, "Yeah…but the question is which one?"

"What?" Face suddenly felt like a balloon with a safety pin's prick coming towards him.

"Which one?" Hannibal asked, "I don't believe that they did this together, there wasn't enough time, only one of them could've pulled it off, but which one? Frankie's made it no secret she'd like to kill somebody, but let us not forget, we know very little about Mad Dog to get a reading off of him, perhaps his passive, doormat act _is_ just an act, his behavior makes him seem the least likely of the two, and that's usually _just_ who the guilty party is. The question is, which one of these two actually did it? Which of them tried to kill Lynch and that MP? …And why?"


	14. Chapter 14

Hannibal and Face knew that there wasn't going to be any easy way around this, if they were going to get to the bottom of what happened back at the airport, they would have to confront both Mad Dog and Frankie at the same time, and at once. They went over to Murdock's room where they could hear several people talking, and saw that Murdock and B.A. were in there with them. Well, this was as 'perfect' as it was going to be. They walked in and Hannibal shut the door behind him and locked it, and this small gesture got the attention of the other four occupants of the room. The only way these two were getting out of this room now would be out the window.

"Hey Hannibal, what's up?" Murdock asked.

"Some _very_ interesting reading material came over on the ship that delivered the hotel's food inventory for the week," Hannibal tossed the paper over towards the others and let them read it and he told them, "When we were getting boarded up on the plane to leave,_ somebody_ took it upon themselves to bash in the head of one of the MPs, and tried to shish-kabob Colonel Lynch." He looked at Mad Dog and Frankie and said, "You two can save your pleas of innocence for somebody who actually believes it, as far as I'm concerned you're both in plenty of trouble already. So I would suggest you make it easy on yourselves and come clean, we know _one_ of you did it, so which one?"

Mad Dog and Frankie looked at each other, both of them looking like they would rather be anywhere but _here_ right now.

"Well?" Hannibal asked firmly, making it clear he wasn't pussyfooting around.

Mad Dog took in a sharp huff of air and it seemed that he would be the first to speak, but Frankie beat him to it and said, "I did."

There had been certain times in the past few days when Frankie spoke on behalf of Murdoch and Hannibal got the impression that she was covering for him. But this wasn't one of those times, he could tell by watching her that she was telling the truth.

"Alright, that part was easy, now why did you do it?" Hannibal asked.

"Why did I do what?" Frankie asked, "We were ambushed, we had to get out of there, to do that we had to get the army off our backs."

"What did you do to that MP?" Hannibal wanted to know.

"I knocked his helmet off and hit him in the back of the head with a rock I found near the airstrip, but I only hit him once, that's all it took and he went down, and he was _still_ moving when I left," Frankie explained, sounding just a bit anxious to prove her role wasn't as big as it was made out to be, "That's how we got the guns when you guys ran out of ammo, we knocked out the MP and stole his guns."

"What about Lynch?" Hannibal asked her point blank, "Why did you stab him?"

"I didn't plan to," Frankie told him, "I got in their car and I chased after him and several other men, they scattered, Lynch tripped and fell, I got out of the car, and I saw…" her hands were trying to speak for her as she absentmindedly clutched them together as if she grabbed something, "There was this metal spike on the ground, I guess it was a piece of debris from a wreck…all I could think of at the time was it looked like a bayonet, so I'd use it as one. I picked it up," her hands told the story faster than she did as she mimicked a reenactment, "And I stabbed him in the chest with it, and I drew it clear across his chest, he screamed, there was a lot of blood…blood…blood all over, it was darker, it looked more purple than red…but I've been told that the blood near the heart _is_ like that. I knew that he couldn't possibly get up and come after us then, so I left, and I was walking back towards the plane, that's when you came up and got me." Frankie sounded near tears and also like she was about to throw up and she said, "I never stabbed anybody before, there was so much blood I just felt sick…but I knew we had to get out of there and fast before the others came for us, so I got up and left."

"And _that's_ why you were screaming for the knockout pills," Face realized, "It wasn't because of the flight, it was because you couldn't deal with what you'd done."

"That's right," Frankie answered in a weak voice, "I figured a few hours of blissful unconsciousness would do me some good. I've done a lot of things in my life that I'm not proud of, but I'm not a murderer, if I _have_ to kill someone, I will…but I could hardly stand stabbing Lynch one time, you'd _have_ to be a psychopath to do it to somebody _nine_ times."

Mad Dog went over to Frankie and held her as she slowly fell to pieces, "We had to get away, we got away, that's all that mattered there, that's why I had to do it, but how in the hell could Masterson stab a woman so many times? She couldn't have done anything to him, she couldn't have been a threat to him."

Hannibal thought Frankie was going to throw up so he told Mad Dog to take her into the bathroom.

"Well," Face said quietly, feeling a little sick himself, "I guess that explains everything."

"Yes, but it doesn't solve our problems when we get back home," Hannibal said, "Lynch may be in the hospital for a while, but that just means somebody else is going to be brought in to replace him."

"Well," Face said as he folded his arms, "On the other hand, can anybody be as bad as Lynch?"

* * *

"Nice shot, Colonel."

"Why thank you, General, now what was that you were saying? Something about the A-Team?"

The general handed a file over to Colonel Roderick Decker, "These men have been wanted for over ten years and it's time we closed the book on them once and for all."

Decker ignored the file and instead reloaded his rifle, "That case has been on the back burner for years. It's common knowledge that Colonel Lynch has been waging his own little war."

"Precisely, or rather, he _was_," General Bullen told him.

Decker's head moved up, for a second ignoring getting an accurate aim on his target, and he glanced back at the general and inquired, "Lynch is out of the picture?"

"For the time being anyway," the general informed him, "I suppose you haven't been reading the papers lately."

Decker snorted, "What's to read these days? Just a bunch of comics and the latest statements from those political gasbags down in Washington."

"Ah ha, then you _haven't_ been informed of the latest news," General Bullen said, "Colonel Lynch is recovering in a Veterans hospital currently."

Decker knew Lynch more by reputation than by having actually met the man, still, he'd seen the man's picture and he couldn't help asking, "That fat potato finally have a heart attack?"

"No," the general answered, "He was injured during his latest escapade with the A-Team."

Decker snorted and said, "They have quite a reputation for themselves, shoot anything and everything in their sight, except the _people_ in their sight, they finally wise up and blow a hole in Lynch?"

"Hardly," the general said, "He tracked the A-Team out to an abandoned airport and a fight ensued, _somebody_ got the drop on Decker and cut his chest open with a piece of airplane scrap metal."

Even Decker couldn't help grimacing at that mental image. "So you're bringing me in to substitute for him while he's on medical leave, is that it?"

"Not exactly," Bullen told him, "Colonel Lynch has spent the last 10 years trying to catch the A-Team and making himself _and_ the United States Army in general look like a bad joke the entire time. They were all but forgotten only a couple years after they escaped from Fort Bragg, but Colonel Lynch pursued it relentlessly, it's personal for him."

"And it will be personal for me too, you know that," Decker reminded the general, "I knew Colonel Smith in Vietnam, to put it lightly, we didn't see eye to eye."

"It's more than that, Colonel," General Bullen said, "With Lynch constantly throwing balls down their alley, he's mushroomed this into what is viewed as an extremely embarrassing string of situations. The A-Team has relieved Colonel Lynch of a variety of aircrafts belonging to the military, countless times he's lost countless MP cars in high speed chases. And every time, we had to make restitution to a number of innocent shopkeepers whose store fronts were destroyed in the process, all thanks to Lynch."

"And now that he's gone, we take over, is that it?" Decker asked.

"Not us, you, Colonel, during 'Nam you were our best troubleshooter, always the one we could count on."

"Until extreme political pressure knocked the hat off my career and any possibility of furthering my rank," Decker pointed out sarcastically.

"That's all in the past and you know it, right now you're the only one holding you back from rising up the ladder."

"If you ask me, General, it is the very methods that made me an embarrassment as others have put it, those are the very methods that make me the man for this job. I wasn't good enough for those stars in 'Nam, but now you think a little flattery is all it takes to make me forget. We both know what you're saying, General, so let's not dance around the dance floor. So what is the bottom line here?"

"What I'm interested in, Colonel, are results. Bring me the A-Team and I'm sure come the time you decide you want to move up in the ranks, no one will be standing in your way."

"Okay, General, you got yourself a deal," Decker said, doing well not to let on as to how thrilled he was to have this assignment handed to him, "I'll bring them in, count on it."

"I am, Colonel," the general told him, "I am."

* * *

Murdock was waiting in the hotel's dining room for Mad Dog and Frankie, the others had gone about various errands around the island, so he knew he'd be able to talk to them alone when they showed up. He finally saw the two of them come down the stairs and he met them in the lobby.

"Hey Frankie cous, you feeling alright now?" he asked.

Frankie swallowed hard and said, "Yeah, I think so."

Murdock had them follow him over to one of the tables and he took the courtesy of ordering breakfast for he and M.D., and judging by Frankie's complexion, one ginger ale on the rocks. Frankie kept her head low to the table and bit her thumbnail as she said scornfully, "I _told_ you that he didn't believe me."

"It's not that Hannibal doesn't believe you, he _does_, but he had to find out what happened," Murdock tried to explain, "Why didn't you tell us what had happened?"

"What would've been the point?" Frankie asked, "We got away, we were getting away, that's all that mattered." She stopped biting her nail and looked up at him across the table and said, "Now that the cat's out of the bag I'm sure your colonel is going to be looking into the rest of our past so I might as well tell you this now and you can relay the message to him later."

"What's that?" Murdock asked.

Frankie all but dropped her head on the table and pressed her balled up hands against her temples as she explained, "I told you about that night I tried busting Mad Dog out of the hospital, the guards caught us, one of the guards was stabbed that night, now since your colonel thinks I have some kind of fetish for playing with knives naturally he's going to think I'm responsible for that too, but I didn't do it…_neither_ of us did it."

"I believe you," Murdock said, "Uh let me guess, another inmate did it? Somebody who knew about you guys and was trying to help?"

"Yeah that's right," Frankie said, sounding a bit in shock, "How'd you know that?"

"Well, Frankie cous, you might not be able to trust _most_ patients at the mental hospitals but there's always at least one guy you _can_ count on to help. Now, did he actually have a knife or did he use something else? Like a straightened out bedspring, or a pen, or…"

"It was an old piece of licorice he'd managed to sharpen," Frankie answered, "Said he learned that trick in prison, gave him something to do when he was locked up in the hole for a month."

"Well…isolation in incarceration _does_ force a man to become resourceful, _and_ to come up with the damnedest things for amusement and to keep his mind occupied until further notice," Murdock said as if he was reciting some brilliant speech.

"Yeah well it doesn't matter much," Frankie said as she pulled her head up and straightened her back, "I doubt Hannibal believes me anyway."

"He does," Murdock told her.

"How do you know?" Frankie asked.

"Because over the years he has gotten to be an expert at reading people, he is a human lie detector, trust me he knows, we all knew," Murdock answered.

Frankie was melancholic as she said bluntly, "There's nothing worse than not having anyone believe you."

"Yeah I know all about that," he replied, "We all do, you think you've got problems, try explaining to the men in the brass that you really _didn't_ steal the million dollars you took from the Bank of Hanoi."

Frankie arched one eyebrow and asked him, "How did that work anyway?"

"It's a long story," he said, "And the others can explain it better than I can, I was just the pilot for the mission, that's why I went to the V.A. instead of Fort Bragg with them."

"Murdock," Frankie said, "Do you think we're actually going to catch Masterson?"

"We can sure as hell try," Murdock told her, "And if necessary we'll die trying…or try dying," he thought about it and added, "And maybe then we'll try tie-dying."

Frankie buried her face in the tabletop laughing.

"Hey," Mad Dog said, the first thing he'd said since they sat down at the table, and it got the attention of both Murdocks.

"What is it?" they asked.

A small smirk found its way to his face and he told the others, "Maybe I _have_ finally lost my mind, but I just got a _crazy_ idea."

"I like those, what is it?" Murdock asked.

The smirk had grown into a large grin and Mad Dog looked like he was almost going to laugh and he asked Murdock, "Do you think it's possible to literally scare a person to death?"

"Certainly it's possible," Murdock said, "Why?"

"If the law can't touch Masterson, maybe we can get his old heart to stop ticking," Mad Dog said, "There's never been a case on the books for murder caused by fear, and that's not about to change now."

Murdock turned towards Frankie and told her, "I like your boyfriend, cous."

Frankie winked at him and said, "He has his perks." She alternated at looking between Murdock and Mad Dog and said, "Now I like this idea, I gave it some thought myself once I got locked up in the hospital, of course I could never think of a way to pull it off, and besides," she turned back to Murdock and told him, "As far as I've always known, Masterson is as healthy as a horse and the same can be said for his heart."

"Too bad fear doesn't affect the liver," Murdock said, "I doubt he takes those cod oil pills. My great grandmother took those for 40 years, she died at 107 and 3 days later they managed to beat her liver to death to match."

"How about it, Murdock?" Frankie asked, "If you know anything about mental health you have to have some knowledge about physical health too, fear can kill people with pre-existing heart conditions, but can fear kill healthy people too?"

"Oh _anybody_ could have a heart attack under the right conditions," Murdock told her, "Now _technically_ speaking, it's still murder, but there's no prosecutor who will ever be able to prove it. Killing somebody without ever having to touch them, it's brilliant, it's genius."

"It's pure evil," Frankie said with a sinister grin on her face.

"That's why it's such a wonderful plan," Mad Dog told the others.

"Right, but what _is_ the plan?" Murdock asked.

* * *

"Are you sure we can trust them, Hannibal?" Face asked as he, B.A. and Hannibal headed back to the hotel.

"Why not?" Hannibal asked.

"You really believe that story she told us?" Face asked.

"Yes, Lieutenant, I do," Hannibal replied, "If Frankie had intentionally tried to kill Lynch, I don't think she would've failed."

"Something about the whole thing don't seem right, Hannibal," B.A. said.

"I gotta agree with B.A., Hannibal," Face added, "The murdered woman was stabbed to death, and Colonel Lynch gets stabbed as well."

"But Lynch didn't die," Hannibal reminded them, "And he wasn't stabbed, not _like_ the woman was anyway. You heard Frankie, she cut him open, it was like a surgical incision," he cut through the air with his hand as he mimicked the cutting method, "It wasn't a simple jab and thrust," he drew his arm back and jerked his hand forward to demonstrate, "Frankie wasn't _thinking_, she was simply reacting."

"Reacting to what?" Face asked.

"Face, you know as well as I do that people in combat can often _snap_, and do the most reprehensible things without ever thinking about doing them, they _just_ do them. Frankie knew if we got caught we wouldn't be able to do anything to stop Masterson, so the logic part of her brain switched over to autopilot and she just did the first thing that came to mind, injuring Lynch helped guarantee our escape, at least in her mind," Hannibal said.

"Still…something about this whole thing doesn't set well with me," Face said.

"I know," Hannibal replied, "It's like whoever printed that report deliberately did it to set Frankie up, knowing that we'd try connecting the dots."

Face stopped in his tracks and said, "You don't think…"

"I'm sure it's just a coincidence," Hannibal assured him, "All the same I think it's vital we find out _where_ Masterson is and make sure he hasn't left the island, because if we can get the Florida papers here in two days, then it won't be too hard for him to get word of what's going on either."

"Right, but he hasn't come back to his hotel room since we got here," Face said.

"That we know of," Hannibal reminded him, "He could just be hiding out and not talking to anyone on the phone."

"So how do we find out?" Face asked.

"I'll have a talk with Sheila and see if I can get a passkey," Hannibal answered.

* * *

"Mister Masterson, housekeeping, hello?" Murdock called out in a falsetto voice as he slowly opened the door and poked his head in. He looked back and said, "Coast is clear, Hannibal."

Hannibal stepped into the room and took a look around. For the most part everything seemed to be the same as the last time he was in Masterson's room. For a moment the colonel wondered if maybe Face was right and the man hadn't come back to the hotel at all. But that thought quickly went out the window when he found some things that hadn't been there the other day. He picked up a piece of paper from the bed and said, "He's been here since I left, there's a note here."

"What's it say?" Murdock asked as he poked his head in again but kept his feet firmly on the threshold.

"Looks like Masterson is meeting with somebody at a place called The Potted Pineapple."

"These people sure got a sense of humor in naming everything," Face interjected, "That's a restaurant in the city, I saw it earlier."

"How far is it from here?" Hannibal asked.

"About two miles."

"Once we get into the city limits we can get a car to head out there," Hannibal said. He checked his watch against the time on the note and said, "Looks like he'll be there in a couple of hours, that gives us time to plan."

"What're we going to do?" Face asked.

"Well first of all we need Frankie to confirm who he is," Hannibal said, "From there we'll keep him under careful observation until we have a better chance to get him _alone_ for a little _private_ conversation."

"And confrontation?" Frankie asked as she appeared in the doorway.

Hannibal turned back to her and said, "You let us worry about that, we just need you to finger this guy, then after that I'm going to have Murdock put you on the bus heading back here."

"You don't trust me," Frankie realized, "You think I'm going to make a scene in a public place with dozens of witnesses? How _stupid_ do you think I am?"

"Emotions override logic, you've hated this man since you were a little girl, and now you've got a lot more at stake than you did before, I'm not sure _what_ you'd do, if anything, but I'm not willing to take the chance."

"What about Mad Dog?" Frankie asked.

"He has to stay here," Hannibal said, "You know as well as we do that everything will be jeopardized if Masterson sees him, he'll recognize him, and then everything's going to be shot to hell."

Frankie said nothing and just nodded slowly in cooperation. "So what do we do in the meantime?" she calmly asked him.

* * *

Captain Crane entered Decker's office and said, "Colonel."

"What'd you find, Crane?" Decker asked.

"The MPs staked out Baracus and Smith's apartments, there's been no activity at either residence to report."

Decker slowly nodded as if he already knew that and said, "They're out of the country."

"How can you be sure of that, Colonel?" Crane asked.

"Because we got a description of the plane they made their getaway in," Decker explained, "And there have been no reports of any Gulfstream jets landing anywhere in the States in the last two days, let alone one with a crew and passenger count of five or six people. Colonel Lynch said that the person who stabbed him _wasn't_ one of the A-Team, which means that they've got somebody with them."

"A pilot, Smith, Peck and Baracus weren't trained to fly," Crane said.

"There's _that_," Decker conceded, "But there's someone else with them, which means most likely they've got a couple of those bleeding heart idiots who hired them." His eyes narrowed as he added, "But there hasn't been any word of someone trying to hire the A-Team for several weeks."

"Maybe they took a couple of hostages," Crane guessed.

"It's not impossible but I wouldn't give much for _those_ chances either," Decker said, "Now they've had plenty of opportunities over the years flying out of the country to stay in a sovereign nation somewhere where we couldn't touch them, but they _always_ come back, meaning they will again. And when they do we're going to be ready for them."


	15. Chapter 15

Murdock had gone out for a while that afternoon to wander around the island a bit, and returned back to his hotel room where the five other people were, and at first nobody paid Murdock much mind than to just acknowledge his presence. Then, one by one, the others started to notice that Murdock was acting a bit odd, even for him; he had his jacket zipped up halfway but for some reason was sticking his head down into his jacket to talk to something.

"Oh boy, crazy fool's lost what bit of his mind he had left," B.A. said.

"Murdock," Hannibal spoke up, "Is there something you'd like to share with us?"

Murdock pulled his face out of his jacket and said, "Hannibal, I met a new friend out on the beach."

"Oh no," B.A. grumbled in anticipation.

"What's the matter?" Frankie asked, "What is it?"

"Knowing that fool, probably another stupid bug," B.A. said.

Murdock made a buzzer sound and said, "Wrong answer, say hello to my new friend." He unzipped his jacket with one hand, reached in with the other and pulled out a coconut.

Frankie rolled her eyes and said as she sat back on the bed, "Crazy, he _really_ is."

"That's really nice, Murdock," Face said, playing along, "What're you going to do with it?"

"I'm going to take him back home and introduce him to GB," Murdock answered.

"Who's GB?" Frankie asked.

"A golf ball," Face answered.

Frankie squeezed her eyes shut for a second like a cat that was annoyed and said, "I was taking notes from the wrong people for lessons on insanity for all those years." She looked at Face and said, "He talks to a golf ball?"

"He does more than that," Face explained, "He tried teaching GB to sing."

Frankie turned to Mad Dog and asked him, "_Why_ did we agree to come with these people?"

Hannibal checked his watch and said, "It's about time that we got going."

Frankie turned to him and said bluntly, "I'm _not_ going."

"What?" Face asked.

"And why not?" Hannibal wanted to know.

Frankie pointed to Mad Dog and said, "Either he comes with us or I'm not going, I'm not taking a chance that Masterson has somebody here waiting to catch him alone and kill him."

"Now you're being ridiculous," Hannibal told her.

Frankie stood her ground and said, "You have a pilot who talks to coconuts and golf balls and _I'm_ the one being ridiculous?"

"You are the only person who can point him out," he reminded her.

"What, when you were going through all of his personal effects at his office, you couldn't find one picture of the guy?" Frankie asked.

"I'm not willing to take the chance that he's changed his appearance from what we saw, for seeing him all the years that you have, you will know better than we will," Hannibal said.

Murdock raised his hand and said, "Colonel, I got an idea."

"What's that?" Hannibal asked him.

"I think I know a way we can take Mad Dog with us and we don't have to worry about anybody recognizing him," Murdock told him.

"We're all ears, what is it?" Hannibal asked.

Murdock had Mad Dog go over to him and Murdock took off his jacket and ball cap and put them on him and pulled the brim of the cap down low, then turned to the others and asked, "Think anybody would recognize him like this?"

"His own mother wouldn't recognize him," Frankie commented.

"So long as he don't start acting like the crazy fool," B.A. said.

* * *

"Murdock," Hannibal hissed in a whisper to the pilot, "I told you to either leave your coconut at the hotel, or put him in your pocket."

"Aw but Hannibal," Murdock said with a pout on his face "CC gets lonely if I don't talk to him, besides, I can't put him in my pocket, he's scared of the dark."

"You named a coconut CC?" Frankie asked.

"He named a golf ball GB," Face pointed out, "Why does _this_ surprise you?"

"Look, you've known this dingbat for 10 years, we've just met him," Frankie replied.

"Yeah," Face said, "But he thinks that you two are family and if that's true, then that means…"

"Mean what, that I'm crazy like him?" Frankie asked, "Insanity is not _always_ hereditary and in any case if there _is_ any chance in hell that we _are_ related, it's a very long distance relation." She turned to Murdock and all but screamed at him, "For crying out loud, Murdock, give me that damn coconut, I'll hold onto it until we can get out of here since we're not invited to stay."

"I _told_ you why you can't stay," Hannibal told her, managing to keep himself calm but firm, very close to going off the deep end and losing it with this kid.

"I heard you," Frankie responded, "It doesn't mean I have to like it."

"Nobody ever said you did," he reminded her.

"How long do you think it's going to take for Masterson to show up?" Face asked as he glanced around at the other people in the restaurant.

"If his note was any indicator, he should be here any minute," Hannibal said.

"What did it say?" Murdock asked.

"It said 4:30 and under that he'd scribbled a name, Sosa."

"Sosa?" Murdock asked.

"Sosa?" Frankie repeated. The two said the name a few more times as if they were trying to place it somewhere, and then almost automatically both of them snapped their fingers and exclaimed, "Scarface!"

"Don't you just hate it when you can't speak the language?" Face asked Hannibal.

"Don't you remember, Face?" Murdock asked, "Sosa was that guy that ordered the hit on Tony Montana after he refused to blow up the reporter's car with his kids inside."

"Good movie," Frankie recalled, "Lousy ending."

"Now _I'm_ the one who can't speak the language," Mad Dog said with an innocent smile, without explicitly saying anything, pointing out the fact that he was locked up when the movie came out.

"Well how're we going to know who Sosa is?" Frankie asked.

"If he meets somebody here we'll know," Hannibal said, "What I'm wondering is is this person a man or a woman?"

"Sizing up another victim?" Murdock asked.

"Could be," Hannibal replied.

Their quiet conversation was suddenly and rudely interrupted by a loud crunching and chomping sound, and everybody about jumped out of their seats. They turned and saw that it was just B.A. chewing on some celery from the appetizer tray.

"B.A., it's not polite to make noises when you eat," Murdock said.

B.A. grumbled under his breath and said much louder, "I'm starving, I wish we knew when that fool was coming so we could get dinner."

Frankie's eyes widened and she half shot up from her chair and said, louder than she should've, "That's him!"

Everybody turned to see the man who had just stepped in. Richard Masterson looked to be a well to do man somewhere in his late 40s who in his younger days might've been very attractive and seemed to still have a few years of looking decent so as to lure in naïve, unsuspecting women gullible enough to believe any line he fed them that fit with the expectations they might build up of him. Hannibal could tell by looking at the man, he was definitely a white collar sort.

"Alright, that's all I need," Hannibal told them, "Murdock, get them out of here, get back to the hotel and keep an eye on them."

"You got it, Colonel," Murdock said as he pushed his chair back and got Frankie and Mad Dog to do the same. As they moved away from the table they nearly collided with a waiter pushing a dessert tray, Murdock picked up a tray of lady fingers and said, "Thank you," and pointing back to Face added, "Just put it on the bill," and the three of them left the hotel completely undetected by the man who had just come in and sat down at a table five spaces down from Hannibal's table.

"I'm just glad we don't have to ride back with those other guys in the car," Mad Dog said as they walked out into the street to catch the bus heading back towards the hotel, "Six people in a compact car was _not_ what the people at GM had in mind when they made the final designs."

"What do you think they're going to do back there, Murdock?" Frankie asked as they got on the bus.

"Oh Hannibal knows what he's doing, believe that," Murdock said as they found their seats and sat down, "Now, going in the front door may be Hannibal's M.O. but you can't just charge straight headlong into something, you've got to stand back and observe your enemies first so you know what you're dealing with. So for the time being they're just going to stay back and watch Masterson and see what he does and who he does it with."

"Will they do anything else before meeting up with us again?" Mad Dog asked.

"If they have to, but I doubt it'll come to that," Murdock told him, "But, we shall have to wait and see."

* * *

"Alright, Murdock," Frankie said when they returned to his hotel room that evening, she paced around the room nervously and balled and unballed her hands and asked him, "You saw Masterson, do you think we can do it? Do you really think we can pull it off? Is there a way we can scare him to death?"

"Oh I think it could be done if we do it right," Murdock told her.

"How do we do that?" Mad Dog asked.

"It would be easier if we actually had something to work with," Murdock said, the mad genius in him hard at work already, "It's easier if you have something to use that they're scared of, but Masterson doesn't strike me as the type of guy whose phobias would be common knowledge to anyone who doesn't know him personally. Frankie, you got any insight to this?"

Frankie shook her head.

"No, I didn't think so," Murdock said, "Well, then we'll just have to find something generic to scare him with."

"Yeah, but what?" Mad Dog asked.

"Well…" Murdock considered it for a moment and said, "Death _is_ a good place to start, most people _are_ scared _of_ death in one way or another."

"So we scare him to death by making him think he's dying?" Mad Dog asked.

"By letting him think we're _going_ to kill him," Frankie caught on, "That's genius."

"_If_ it works," Murdock reminded her, "It's not guaranteed."

"How would we do it?" she asked.

"Well there's the problem," Murdock said, "He has to be convinced that his life is in immediate danger, but he's probably not going to be likely to be worried about Mad Dog doing something to him, and he doesn't know me well enough to be afraid of me, and _you_ he knows, so we've got a problem right there. Of course…we wouldn't have to do anything spectacular, we could take a simple approach like make him think he's been poisoned and will die if he doesn't get an antidote within half an hour or so."

"Would that work?" Frankie asked.

"Might…_or_," Murdock came up with another thought, "He might be so grossly negligent trying to get to the hospital in time that he loses control of his car and wipes out, kills himself in a crash."

"Sounds good to me," Frankie said.

"Only problem is he might hit an innocent bystander," Mad Dog pointed out.

"True…now if we could fix it up that he'd be driving on a deserted road," Murdock thought.

"How could he crash then with nothing to hit?" Frankie asked.

"Hmmmm, good point," he replied, "Let's see…if he were to be driving at 100 miles an hour, that's pretty reckless, and to be driving at that speed that would mean a hospital would have to be about 40, 50 miles away to really get a scare out of him…so if we wait until he's back in California…oh but there're a hundred hospitals within a few minutes' reach of any place we could get him at, California is crawling with hospitals, plastic surgeons and all that." Murdock scratched his head and said, "I wonder how well he knows the pilot who flies his chartered jet."

"Why?" Mad Dog asked.

"If it's a revolving door of frequent flyers then we could intercept the next guy and I could go in his place," Murdock explained.

"But then how would we get back to L.A.?" Frankie asked.

"If the plane is big enough, you two could stowaway on it," Murdock told them.

"And the others?" Mad Dog asked.

"Well B.A. wanted to take a boat back, they all could," Murdock said, "It really goes without saying that if we're going to do this, first of all we don't need Hannibal's help or the others' for that matter, and second of all if we're going to do this, we really _don't_ want Hannibal and the other guys to find out about it, they'd never agree to help, there's no way they'd ever go for it."

"What would happen when they finally got back?" Mad Dog asked, worried that this plan could get the pilot into a lot of trouble with his Teammates.

"Well," Murdock gave it a little thought but didn't seem too worried, "The only one to really worry about is Hannibal, and given that they won't even get back to L.A. until a few days, or maybe weeks, from the time we do, it'll only be our word, hearsay, he won't have anything to contest that and provided we look innocent when we talk, I don't think he'll have much reason to doubt what we tell him. If by chance he _would_ find out that we planned it, that'll be on me because I'm the only one _here_ on the Team and you two are my responsibility, but I don't think the Colonel would stay mad at me for too long, he can't afford to abandon me, he'll never get another pilot who knows their routine as perfectly as I do."

"Sounds like you've already got it all figured out," Mad Dog noted.

Murdock got a devilish smirk on his face and he said, "Well we can't all be angels all the time…" he pressed the toe of one sneaker against the floor and wriggled it back and forth like he was stomping out a cigarette and got an 'I'm a bad little boy' on his face as he confessed, "I always wanted to kill someone, I just never knew who it would be."

"William Saroyan, The Time of Your Life," Frankie recited, and asked him, "Am I right?"

"You read it, I see," Murdock said.

"Yeah, back when I had ideals and actually believed in something," she answered.

"If we pull this off you may again," Murdock told her, "I have to admit I do find it a bit thrilling to be plotting a murder that can never be tied back to us or _anyone_ for that matter."

"Everybody who ever manages to pull it off must think they're the first," Mad Dog thought, "After all you'll never hear of anybody else doing it, because the cops and the D.A. can't prove it."

"And in any case, I don't think cops would be smart enough to believe that it could be done," Frankie added, "That's what we're banking on anyway, right?"

"Right," Murdock said, "So all we have to do is put our heads together and come up with a foolproof way to scare Masterson right into his grave." He looked at the clock and looked out the bedroom window and added, "But not now."

"What?" the others asked.

"We'll have all night to figure something out," Murdock told them, "In the meantime I suggest we get dinner, and then since we know that Masterson's not going to be able to bite his nails without Hannibal watching him, I say we get out of here and enjoy ourselves for a while."

"How?" Frankie asked.

"Well you were saying how long it's been since you were behind the wheel of a car, I say after dinner we rent one of those dune buggies and drive around the beach. Right now it looks like the weather's still nice, but I think tonight there's going to be a storm coming up."

"Hey Murdock," Frankie said as they headed for the door, "If we can get this method to work on Masterson, do you think it could also work on Lynch?"

Murdock turned back towards her and said, "I never thought about it before…we _might_ be able to, but now that Lynch is in the hospital carved up like a Thanksgiving turkey, we won't have to worry about him for a while."

"I just hope there's no one else to worry about either when we get back to California," Mad Dog added as they went out into the lobby.

"Well, who could they get to replace Lynch on short notice?" Murdock asked as he pulled the door shut behind him.

* * *

"Captain H.M. Murdock was the A-Team's pilot back in 'Nam when they hit the Bank of Hanoi," Decker told Crane as he closed a folder and pushed the filing cabinet drawer shut, "When they were captured, he was deemed insane and sent back to America as a patient in the V.A. hospital here in Los Angeles."

"He's been there for 10 years, hasn't he?" Crane asked.

"That is correct," Decker answered, "The doctors seem to believe his psycho act."

"But you don't, Colonel?" Crane inquired.

"I have not had the privilege of personally meeting the man or of seeing him since his return to the United States. Colonel _Lynch_ went to see him at the hospital about a year ago…whatever Murdock told him, the colonel believed that he truly was insane. But Lynch was an incompetent idiot. _I'm_ going to see him at the V.A. and see if he's truly insane or if it's just an act."

"I wasn't aware that you were trained in psychiatry, Colonel," Crane said, a bit cynically.

"Crane, those fools at the hospital have their degrees and they believe somebody's crazy just because he stands on the furniture and talks to things that aren't there. I've seen a lot of men come back from the war damaged, I've seen a lot who were truly crazy, I _do_ know what to look for better than those stupid doctors who call themselves 'professionals'."

Crane nodded and asked, "So when are we going to the V.A. to pay Captain Murdock a visit?"

"Right now," Decker answered.


	16. Chapter 16

"You don't think the idea's really going to work, do you?" Mad Dog quietly asked Murdock later that night as he joined the pilot by the hotel's mini bar to mix them a few drinks, "You don't really think we can kill Masterson without touching him, do you?"

"I don't think it's going to be necessary," Murdock explained, "Now that we've found Masterson, Hannibal is not going to let this guy walk away from what he's done, one way or another the Colonel is going to make sure that he pays for what he's put you guys through."

"Frankie doesn't believe that," Mad Dog said.

"I know, which is why we've got to keep talking to her about the plan, it gives her something to focus on and she needs something to believe in," Murdock told him, "You know the real reason she's thrilled about the plan, because it was your idea."

"I kind of figured," Mad Dog said, "These last couple years I've just felt like I'm a ventriloquist dummy or something, Frankie's had to take on everything to handle herself because I haven't been able to do anything."

"You were locked up, that's understandable," Murdock told him.

"Yeah, but it's like I was supposed to protect Frankie, I was supposed to keep her safe from Masterson, but instead, I get set up, I get locked up and Frankie is left vulnerable for that creep to try getting his hands on her again," M.D. told the pilot, "I did everything I could think of to make sure he couldn't get near her, but instead, I get arrested for murder. Every time that lawyer came to see me, I screamed at him to do something, that there _had_ to be a way out of the mess…but he wouldn't do anything and once I got the crazy plea there wasn't anything else I could do about it, so Frankie had to take over. She's been trying to keep herself protected and bust me out of the mental hospital all at the same time, and I hate it."

"I hate it for both of you," Murdock replied, "But that's why we're here now, to squash this nasty bug into something you scrape off the bottom of your shoe. And one way or another, we're going to do it, you can take my word for that." He picked up a glass he prepared for Frankie and took it over to the woman who was just about asleep on the bed. She had her arms folded behind her head on top of three pillows she'd propped herself up on so she could watch the TV, even though there wasn't anything on.

"What is it?" she asked when she saw the glass.

"It's booze, does it matter _what_ it is?" Murdock asked.

"Guess not," Frankie took the glass and took a sip, then she asked him, "Yes it does, what _is_ it?"

"Rum and Coca-Cola, like the song."

"What song?" Frankie asked.

Murdock scowled at her and said, "Oh boy, where've you been? Next thing I suppose you'll say you never heard of this one," he moved to the center of the room and jumped around like a monkey and sang, "O-bongo-bongo-bongo I don't want to leave the Congo oh-no-no-no-no, bingo bango bungo I'm so hoppy in the jungle I refuse to go." He saw Frankie shaking her head even though she was about to burst out laughing.

"Are you _always_ like this?" Frankie asked him.

"No, sometimes I'm crazy," he answered.

"What else do you do?" Frankie asked as she sat up.

"Oh I can do just about anything," Murdock gestured theatrically as if he was a great performer getting on stage and said, "I can dance, I can sing, I can do animal impressions."

"Can you do other impressions?" Frankie asked.

"Certainly," Murdock said, and he proceeded to change from speaking with a British accent pretending to be some important something or other, to then speaking with a German accent and pretending to be the Red Baron.

"Is there anything you can't do?" Mad Dog asked.

"Uh…" Murdock thought about it, "Lock picking, that's Face's area of expertise."

"So what else do you do?" Frankie asked.

He paused for a few second before a light bulb seemed to go off and he said, "Hey, I know, I want to show you guys something, I want to show _you_ guys because I can just hear B.A.'s opinion now, and I'd rather not. I can just hear him now," Murdock turned to one side and said in his gruff B.A. impersonation, "Shut up ya crazy fool!" then turned to the other side and said in his normal voice, "But B.A., I really think that you'll like this," and turned back again and said as B.A., "You keep it up ya crazy fool and I'm gonna pound you into next week," and then turned to speak as himself again, but the others cut him off.

"What is it?" they wanted to know.

"A new type of rain dance," Murdock answered and demonstrated by hopping around the room shifting from one foot to the other, whooping and howling like the Indians in the old TV westerns.

Frankie turned to Mad Dog and told him in a dry tone, "What scares me is he seems to be the smartest one here." She went over to Murdock and jabbed him in the shoulder to get his attention and said, "Excuse me, Geronimo, but you don't really believe those things work, do you?"

"Well I've never done one before that failed," Murdock answered.

"How many have you done?" Frankie asked.

"Just this one," he told her.

* * *

"Somebody has it in for me," Decker said, "I can just feel it."

He and Crane stood out in the cold, pouring down rain and looked at the fine mess before them. Crane couldn't figure it out, there hadn't been a cloud in the sky before they left Decker's office, but as soon as they got on the road, out of nowhere a bunch of black clouds moved in and he had known that a storm was going to hit and fast. He just hadn't known how _hard_ it was going to.

The rain beat down hard and mercilessly right away, there hadn't even been any precursor of drizzle like most rainstorms. And it built up, within a few seconds it was beating down on the car as they drove and hailed down on the windshield so hard that they couldn't even see where they were going. Still, they had pressed on, and once they got onto the main road leading to the V.A., that was when the lightning came up out of nowhere.

Everybody acknowledged the possibility of getting hit by lightning though Crane doubted few people ever actually seriously thought about it. Well, after tonight he knew he definitely would. They had been blinded for a few seconds by one particularly bright flash of it, and then they'd heard the noise of a tree breaking apart and the large body of the tree separating from the roots and crashing in the middle of the street, making one hell of a barricade, preventing them from going to the V.A. tonight.

They'd gotten out of the car to assess the damage and see if the tree could be moved, but quickly found it could not. However, before they got back to the car, lightning struck again, and they heard another sickening sound of a tree falling down, and then heard the sound of a tree falling on a car and smashing it. Turning around they saw that they had been partially right, another tree by the road had fallen over and hit the front end of the car, and now it looked like the hood and grill had been smashed up by it.

For whatever reason, Decker managed to restrain himself from flying off the deep end at this unbelievable series of events, instead just grumbling to himself about Murphy's law and anything that could go wrong did. The radio was still working in the car so he called for backup, and they now stood out in the storm waiting for another MP car to come and pick them up. It was obvious they weren't going anywhere tonight, but Decker wasn't especially bothered because he knew that likewise, Captain Murdock wouldn't be going anywhere in this weather either. First thing tomorrow when the road was cleared and the damn tree was moved, they were going to go to the V.A. and see the pilot once and for all. Decker just _knew_ that when he was alone with Murdock, he was going to get some answers out of the former captain about where the A-Team was.

* * *

"I don't like it, Hannibal," Face said during the ride back, "I _really_ don't like it."

Hannibal sat up front in the passenger seat of the car and kept his head down as he looked at the mini recorder that he'd managed to slip under Masterson's table when the man wasn't looking, and collect it as soon as he'd left. He didn't need to press the button to play the tape again, they'd already heard it roughly when it was live, and they'd listened to the tape a couple more times to make sure that they weren't wrong.

Masterson's associate Sosa had been late, but he had finally arrived, a Frank Sosa, a guy in his 30s who looked like he could be some hot shot lawyer, crooked of course but then again weren't they all? They'd listened as the two men conversed for an hour about nothing, and in between all the nothing, Sosa had tried to make an arrangement with Masterson for a new woman he might be interested in. They'd had a good laugh about it, and Masterson replied that he intended to get it out of his system now, because he was certain that when he got back to California he'd have someone else already waiting for him back home; in his own words, a nice, ripe, 20-year-old girl who he'd been trying to get his hooks into for quite some time. Face had excused himself from the table when they overheard the conversation, saying that he wanted to toss his lunch in private.

"Masterson hasn't gotten the word that M.D. was pulled from the hospital before the lobotomy, he thinks when he gets back to L.A. that he'll be able to get Frankie all to himself since her boyfriend's supposed to be out of the picture now," Hannibal said.

"I don't get it though," Face told him, "Frankie said once she was put in the hospital that he couldn't get to her."

"She also said he has a lot of money and influence, I'm sure it wouldn't be much trouble for him to talk his way into gaining access to her room and making himself at home when he sees fit," Hannibal pointed out.

"So now what do we do, Hannibal?" B.A. wanted to know.

"We've got to intercept the woman that Sosa's sending over to the hotel, she's going there to meet Masterson but I'm sure that if we put Face in a strategic enough place, he can make her forget about her original date," Hannibal said.

Face rolled his eyes and commented sarcastically, "Gee Hannibal, you think you gave me a dangerous enough assignment?"

"We'll be close enough by incase anything happens, don't worry," Hannibal said dismissively.

"Surprise, I'm worried," Face replied.

"Well now really, Face, when do you have a problem with getting on the good side of beautiful women?" Hannibal asked.

"When I'm the fly being suckered into a corner of the spider's web," Face answered.

* * *

"You know, Frankie," Murdock said, "I've been watching you guys for the last couple of days and I've been hearing about what you did to try and get declared insane, and I think I know what your problem is. You know the saying work smart, not hard? Well there you go, you were trying too hard to get put away and that's why nobody believed you, now, should the situation ever come up again when you're trying to convince somebody you're crazy…I would suggest taking a much simpler approach."

"Like what?" Frankie asked.

"Well, I would suggest you start with something small," Murdock said, "Like this one time we had to get into a prison to bust up a fighting ring, I drove everybody working in that jail crazy for hours just by screaming for trash bags."

"Trash bags?" Frankie asked cluelessly.

"Trash bags?" M.D. repeated.

"Trash bags," Murdock answered.

"Trash bags?" Frankie repeated.

"No no no, not like that, like this," Murdock sucked in a large breath and screamed out, "TUH-RASH BAAAAGS! I WANT SOME TRASH BAAAAGS!"

"I can see why they _would_ think you're nuts," Frankie said.

"Hey, it worked," he said, "And it helped us to escape."

"How?" Frankie asked.

"Well we took the trash bags and had Face get us some pool chairs and big hair dryers and we used them to fill up the bags, tied them to the chair, and floated right over the prison wall," Murdock explained.

Frankie squinted one eye at him and asked, "How much have _you_ had to drink tonight?"

"Hey if you think _that's_ crazy, wait'll I tell you about some of the flights I did in 'Nam," Murdock told them.

Murdock picked up the phone to order room service but just before he could put the receiver to his ear, they were all scared half to death by a crashing BOOM from outside as the storm started.

"That was close," Murdock huffed excitedly as he held the receiver against his chest.

Frankie went over to the window and opened the shutters and saw the rain was beating down in sheets and already the ground below looked like a pond.

"What do you know?" Mad Dog said, "Maybe there _is_ something to that rain dance."

* * *

Face timed his steps behind the young blonde woman in a blue dress walking towards her room on the third floor. He had spent the last few minutes going over in his head what he was going to say to her. It wasn't often that Face doubted the potential of his own cons but this was one time he hoped he didn't screw it up. He went over his rehearsed line one more time as he sped up his pace and accidentally on purpose bumped into the woman. He let out a slight 'oof' and when the woman turned around he said, "Excuse me, terribly sorry…" then he did a double take and said, "By any chance are you Tandy?"

"Yes," she answered.

Face smiled and said, "Well nice to meet you, I'm Richard Masterson, I believe I'm your date for the night."

The woman let out an uncertain laugh and shook his extended hand and said, "I was under the impression from Frank that you were older."

"Oh that's his sense of humor that only he finds funny," Face explained, "You know one time he set me up on a blind date, and right before I walked in he had her convinced that a 70-year-old man with white hair and a cane was her date."

Tandy laughed and said, "Well I guess this is a little early, I thought we were set up for 8:30."

"Oh, well I don't mind starting early if you don't," Face told her, "Incidentally, did Frank tell you what I had in mind for tonight?"

She smiled and shook her head and said, "No he didn't."

"Oh good, well then perhaps when we get back later we can spend a little quiet time alone in my room upstairs," Face said.

"I thought Frank said your room was downstairs," Tandy replied, "On the second floor."

"Of course he'd say that," Face said dismissively as he led her over to the elevator, "Frank will do anything for a gag, he'd just love hearing how you got the wrong room and walked in on an old couple here for the week with their grandkids or something like that."

Hannibal and B.A. stayed around the corner listening until Face and the woman got in the elevator and disappeared, then they came around to the main hall floor and headed back to their rooms.

"Well, the first part of the plan's taken care of," Hannibal said, "We managed to keep the hen out of the fox house."

"Hopefully Faceman and the woman don't run _in_ to this fool Masterson when he gets back to the hotel," B.A. replied.

"Well, with that storm outside, they're not going to be leaving the hotel," Hannibal said, "And since Masterson already went out to dinner, it's a safe bet he won't be frequenting the hotel's dining hall, and I sure as hell don't think he's going to be paying the game room any visits, so Face can show her a PG time of her life, and then take her back to one of our rooms until we're sure that Masterson won't find her."

"And what do we do in the meantime?" B.A. asked.

"Now we check in with the Murdocks and see what's been going on since we sent them back," Hannibal explained.

The storm outside continued to rage on and the rain had made the temperature drop immensely, and some of that cold air was making its way in through the windows of Murdock's hotel room. He, M.D. and Frankie were piled on the bed with a blanket covering them as Frankie and Mad Dog ate popcorn and drank cokes while Murdock sat between them using his hands as much as his mouth to describe some of his more lively adventures in 'Nam.

"And then!" he said gesturing his hands wildly, "I've got this egotistical lieutenant in the cockpit with me screaming about going lower, lower, lower, we're talking NOE here."

"What's that?" Mad Dog asked.

"In air combat there are three levels of flying low," Murdock explained, "Low level where you can still fly over everything, contour where you have to climb over things like trees, and _then_ there is Nap of the Earth, where you don't fly _over_ anything, you maneuver the helicopter to go _around_ them, you go _around_ the trees, _around_ the huts, you are inches away from touching the ground."

"Sounds like that'd be the _easiest_ way to get shot at," Frankie commented.

"You'd think so," Murdock told her, "But it's actually one of the safest ways to fly, but because it _is_ so tricky, you really have to be an expert pilot to know what you're doing, and to do it without getting anybody killed, which is _exactly_ what we were facing. Now, we didn't have any trouble touching topsoil in that bird, but _then_ the lieutenant starts screaming at me to go around so he can open fire down on the Cong soldiers. I was flying a _medic_ chopper for crying out loud, I was trying to get a batch of bleeding soldiers to a field hospital, so I just screamed at him and said 'FIGMO, Lieutenant Napier, just FIGMO'."

"What's that?" Frankie asked.

"It's an Army abbreviation, it means…" Murdock looked at her and said, "It means 'Forget-It-I've-Got-My-Orders'."

Frankie looked at him and humorously responded, "Oh…like SNAFU means Situation Normal, All Fouled Up?"

"Exactly like that," Murdock answered.

Frankie looked at him when he didn't continue and said, "Well? Did you make it?"

"Yeah, got there _just_ in time, those three boys were just about to get fitted for their body bags," Murdock said.

"Did you get in trouble for disobeying the lieutenant's orders?" Mad Dog asked.

"As I said, I had my orders, so I told him to have his superior talk to my superior…it wasn't pretty but I didn't come away with too much trouble," Murdock told them.

The door opened and Hannibal said, taking in the sight of the three people in bed under a blanket, "I hope we're not interrupting anything."

Murdock squirmed under the blanket and came out at the foot of the bed and said, "Hey Hannibal, how'd it go?"

Hannibal went over to the bed and told Frankie, "For the record kid, I never stopped believing what you told us, and I think we've just got the proof for it."

"What?" they asked.

"Now we didn't get a signed confession for the murder or anything like that," Hannibal said as he took out the mini recorder, "But I have a feeling when Masterson talks about the nice, ripe, 20-year-old girl waiting for him back in L.A., that you are the prime candidate there."

Frankie looked like she was going to be sick when he said that, she looked up at him and asked, "Where is he?"

"On his way back to the hotel, completely oblivious to what's going on, that man Sosa he was meeting set him up with another young woman for the night, so we had Face cut her off at the pass and pass himself off as Masterson, he's going to take her out on a date on the hotel's first floor and keep her out of Masterson's sight. I don't know exactly _how_ this guy works but I don't want to take any chances of her going into his hotel room and coming out in two suitcases and a hat box."

"But what're you going to do about him?" Frankie asked.

"You leave that to us, we're the professionals here," Hannibal said, "Now, we're going to be going back to our room so we can hear if he makes any phone calls," he turned to the pilot and asked, "Murdock, everything going to be okay here?"

"Fine," Murdock answered with a salute, "Oh hey, Hannibal, I'm going to call down to room service, you want anything before turning in?"

"No thanks, Murdock," Hannibal said with a shake of his head.

"Yeah," B.A. told Murdock, "Have them send me up a glass of milk before bed."

"Now B.A.," Murdock said out of nowhere, "You know that you don't drink alcohol."

B.A. looked at Murdock as if he had just hit a new level of crazy, "What're you jabbering about now, fool? I said a glass of milk."

"B.A., if I get you a glass of milk before bed, the milk turns to cheese, cheese turns to butter, butter turns to fat, fat turns to sugar, and sugar turns into alcohol, so if I get you a glass of milk before bed, you will be hung over as soon as you wake up tomorrow morning," Murdock said.

B.A. grabbed Murdock by the front of his shirt and jerked the pilot forward and demanded to know, "What kind of crazy jibber jabber is _that_ supposed to be you crazy fool?"

"Don't get mad at him, these are just the jokes," Frankie said, "I remember that off a TV show I saw growing up."

"Yeah," Murdock broke away from B.A.'s grip and howled like a donkey, "Heeeeeeeeee Haaaaaaaaaaw! Hee hee, hee haw haw haw, Hee Haw! They show that on TV at night at the V.A., right between Mr. Ed and The Range Rider."

"Just get him a glass of milk and put an olive in it," Frankie told Murdock, managing to suppress a laugh.

Murdock turned and saw that Mad Dog seemed to be preoccupied with a thought, he had a faraway look in his hands and his fingers were interlaced tightly like they'd been glued together. After Hannibal and B.A. had left, Mad Dog heard the door closing and it brought him back to reality, he folded his legs under him and sat on his feet and said to Murdock, "You know, I've been thinking about something, I think death is too good for Masterson."

"You have something else in mind?" Frankie asked.

"I think I know what it is," Murdock said with a new sparkle in his eyes, like a madman, he jumped on the foot of the bed and landed on his knees and said quietly like they were a bunch of kids talking past their bedtime, "You ever see the movie "Gaslight", Frankie?"

"I don't know," she said.

"Believe me, you'd remember," Murdock nodded, "Woman marries man, man screams at woman," and he started turning his head one way and the next again as he alternated, 'You always lose things!' The lights go out, 'You insane! You will die raving in an asylum!' Footsteps through the ceiling, 'You always lie!', the woman's not crazy but the husband tells her she's crazy and she starts to think she's crazy. Then, in come a detective to the rescue, 'Who are you? 'I'm a figment of your wife's imagination', 'How'd you get in here?' 'I'm a ghost, we don't use doors'."

"The point, Murdock, what is the point?" Frankie sharply asked.

"Hold on, I'm getting there," Murdock continued with the narration play-by-play, "The husband has been stomping around across the roof to the building next door at night, looking in the attic for some rubies he killed the woman living there for, he turns on the light upstairs and it makes the lights go out downstairs. There's a fight!" he let out a high pitched scream, "They tie him up, 'I want to speak to my wife', the detective leaves, 'Bella, get the knife, cut me loose', 'Knife? What knife? Do you see a knife? Have you gone mad my sane husband? There was a knife, but I lost it'," he mimicked tossing it away, " 'I'm always losing things, I'm insane', then she picks up the knife again and gets ready to stab him…but she doesn't, too bad too, that would've been a good ending."

But Frankie wasn't amused, "You lost me completely."

"Frankie," Mad Dog touched her arm and made her look at him, "He's right…it takes a while to get to the point but he's right…why should we make Masterson's death fast and painless, when we could gaslight him, and make him think he's gone insane? Then _he_ would be the one locked up rotting away in the hospital while we're out free again."

She seemed to consider it for a minute, and asked, "But will it work?"

"If we can't make him certifiable, we can certainly shoot his credibility to hell by making everyone who knows him think he's lost his marbles," Murdock pointed out.

"Hey," Mad Dog snapped his fingers and asked Murdock, "Is there any chance we could bug his room so he'd hear us at night and think there was someone in the room with him?"

A crazy grin formed on Murdock's face and he said, "It's definitely an idea worth looking into."


	17. Chapter 17

Murdock knocked on Hannibal's door and opened it up and poked his head in. "Hey Hannibal, I checked with the front desk, Masterson ain't back yet, you think we should check the phone in his room and make sure the bug's still there?"

"Good idea, Murdock," Hannibal said, "It might've gotten knocked loose."

"I'll check on it," Murdock offered and closed the door behind him.

"He'll check on it?" B.A. repeated skeptically, "That's a mistake."

"We'll see," Hannibal said.

They waited a few minutes and watched the equipment, a light went on and the tape started rolling to signal that the receiver in Masterson's room had been picked up. The phone in their room rang.

"It's working, Murdock," Hannibal said.

"Alright," the pilot responded, and hung up.

"You think we're actually gonna get something on the phone now, Hannibal?" B.A. asked.

"I don't know about _now_, but I'm sure we will come tomorrow when Masterson calls up Sosa because his date never arrived," Hannibal said, "Maybe then we can pick up something more in the conversation."

"I just don't like this, Hannibal, I got a bad feeling about this whole thing," B.A. said, "I _know_ that sucker here where we are, but I get the feeling that there's something even bigger back in L.A. that we overlooked."

"We did," Hannibal said as he looked up and met the sergeant's eyes, "We canvassed the hospital, the medical examiner's office, the police records, Masterson's office, we went everywhere, went over everything, talked to everyone, _except_ the people who mattered most. Frankie's parents, we should've found them and talked to them before we came here."

"You think they know something about this whole mess?" B.A. asked.

"I think they know more than they would admit to most people," Hannibal answered, and added, "But _we're_ not most people. Once we get back to L.A. we'll look them up and pay them a visit and see what they _do_ know."

"Think it's going to do any good?" B.A. asked.

"I don't see how it can hurt," Hannibal replied.

* * *

"Are you sure you got the bug in there right, Murdock?" Frankie asked as she watched the pilot fidget with a wireless transmitter microphone.

"Oh sure, get this," Murdock showed them the tiny transmitter and said, "When Masterson goes to bed tonight, we speak into this, and he's going to hear someone in the room with him, and there won't be anyone there, and he won't have any idea what the hell's going on."

"Are you sure he won't be able to find it though?" Mad Dog asked.

"Trust me, I put it in a place he'll _never_ think to look for it," Murdock told him.

Frankie took the microphone from Murdock and said, "But he'll hear us talking in here too, won't he?"

"Naw, it's got an off switch," Murdock explained, "Just leave it to me, he'll never be the wiser."

"I hope not," Frankie said, "I want to catch this guy off guard and settle this once and for all."

"Frankie, I want to ask you a question," Murdock said as he put his arm around her shoulders and walked her over to a corner of the room, "You told me that when your mother came to see you at the hospital, she brought you a new dress for your birthday."

"Yeah, so what?" she asked.

"It's still there, isn't it?"

"Has to be, but by now it's probably been thrown out or burnt in the incinerator or something," Frankie said.

"What did it look like?" Murdock asked.

Frankie shrugged dismissively and said, "I don't know, it was a white dress, what's it matter?"

Murdock looked at her and asked, "Do you think there's any chance Masterson saw it?"

"I don't know, why?" Frankie asked. Her eyes changed and she said, "You think he was in the hospital?"

"No," Murdock shook his head, "No I don't think that…I think he may have seen it at the house before your mother took it, and he might remember it. Do you remember? Did it have long sleeves, or did it have any…" he rubbed his hand over the front of his T-shirt as he tried to come up with the word, "Embellishments on it, you know those weird patterns they put on bandanas and stuff?"

"No, it was a plain white dress," Frankie said, "What you are trying to say?"

"Sounds like a wedding dress," Mad Dog spoke up, and the others turned to look at him, so he explained, "What Murdock was describing, it sounded like a woman's wedding dress. But what for?"

Murdock took a few seconds to answer as instead he straightened up and raised one hand and one finger specifically to get her attention first, then he explained, "We can kill two birds with one stone, a great way to drive men to the brink of insanity is through fear. Now, I saw a movie once where a woman was poisoned to death and buried in her wedding gown, some company dumped toxic chemicals into the cemetery and she crawled out as a zombie, still in her wedding dress, with flowers in her hair and white heels and pantyhose, but her face…" he placed his hands on his face and pushed the skin on his cheeks back as he told her, "All ashy and blue, skin pulled tight like a skull, the eyes dead, the nose shriveled and pointed, the teeth, like a rat's…if we could do something like that I think we could definitely give this guy a run for his sanity."

"In theory it sounds good, but come on, Murdock, who believes in zombies?" Frankie asked.

"That's what I'm getting to," he told Frankie, "We could convince him that it is you, that you died mysteriously and suddenly, and then here you are, back from the dead and looking for a victim."

Frankie thought about what Murdock said, and slowly she nodded and said, "I like that idea," she sat down in a chair by a writing desk and said, "If only we could pull it off."

"We could," Murdock said, "All we'd have to do is get a dress, a mask, maybe some makeup."

"How're we going to get all that stuff here?" Frankie asked.

"Not _here_, back in California," Murdock answered, "We could borrow a lot of that stuff from the costume department at the movie studio Hannibal works at."

The door opened and Hannibal and B.A. came in and said, "Well, Masterson is back in his hotel room, so somebody's going to have to go down to the first floor and make sure Face doesn't have any run-ins with him."

Frankie and Mad Dog raised their hands and Hannibal chuckled once and said, "Nice try, but we're going to pick someone else."

"Oh well," Frankie said with a huff, "Either way this is better than that damn hospital, at least I don't have to get up at the crack of dawn to join everybody in the physical therapy room for Jane Fonda's workout."

Hannibal let out a brief hiss and told Frankie, "Don't ever mention that woman's name in my presence."

"Why?" Frankie asked, "Because of the whole Hanoi thing?"

"_No_," Hannibal shook his head, "Her driver ran over my tail when I took over doing the Aquamaniac movies."

Murdock felt Frankie and Mad Dog starting to crowd in on him behind his back and he reached back protectively and said, "Uh, Colonel, I'm afraid I'm going to have to opt out on this one, I think it'd be better if I stayed here with these two."

Hannibal nodded understandingly and said, "Alright, Captain, I'll go down and keep an eye on Face and his date, and B.A. will stay up here and monitor the phone, you three stay out of trouble."

Murdock did his best to put on a face of innocence and asked, "Us? Trouble? Surely you jest."

"No he don't," B.A. told Murdock, "And if I hear any of your crazy jibber jabber next door, I'm gonna…"

"I know I know," Murdock replied short-temperedly, "You're gonna pound me into next week."

"That's right, and don't you forget it," B.A. said as he poked Murdock in the stomach with one finger, which was enough to double Murdock over holding his stomach and choking.

"Got it," Murdock gasped.

* * *

It was the screaming that woke Murdock up.

Before the pilot could even fully comprehend what he was hearing, he shot up in bed and saw that the lights were still on in the room, and he saw that Frankie and Murdoch had fallen asleep on the floor. M.D. was writhing around on the floor and kicking his legs high in the air as if he was trying to get loose from something. Frankie had also been awakened by his screams and sat close to him on the floor looking on in a half-asleep stupor.

"Frankie, get away!" Murdock said as he scooted to the edge of the bed and dropped on the floor.

He crawled up behind Frankie and snaked an arm around her waist and pulled her back towards the bed, holding her at a considerable distance from Mad Dog. She wriggled in his grip and tried to get loose and move over to Murdoch, who was still screaming and kicking. She managed to get halfway out of his grip but Murdock grabbed her by the back of her shirt and yanked her back and pulled her against him and told her, "Get back, Frankie, he's gonna hurt you!"

"He's gonna hurt himself!" Frankie screamed at him.

The door opened and Face stepped in and had to shout to be heard over the racket, "What's going on?" but he quickly got his answer, as did Hannibal as he rushed in behind the lieutenant.

Frankie continued to struggle against Murdock's grip on her and she yelled at him, "Let go of me!" and tried to hit him, but he maintained an iron grip and refused to let go, while Hannibal and Face took their chances getting closer to the young man and between the two of them tried to pin him down and wake him up. Mad Dog got one arm loose and just about managed to succeed in busting Hannibal's jaw, but then his eyes opened and he shot up as he started to recognize his surroundings.

"You alright, kid?" Hannibal asked calmly as he saw a look cross over in Murdoch's eyes as everything started falling back into place.

Slowly, they let go of him and got off of him so he could sit up, he huffed and puffed so hard they thought he was going to start hyperventilating, but he managed to catch his breath and when he did he asked them, "What happened?"

"My guess," Hannibal said, "You had a nightmare, do you remember what it was?"

About a minute passed as he tried to, and then it seemed to come back to him. His eyes got wide and he looked like a scared little kid as he started to recall, "The hospital…I was back at that hospital."

"The V.A.?" Face asked.

Mad Dog shook his head rapidly and said, "No…at Freemont."

Hannibal quickly took control of the situation and to everybody's surprise, slipped into a role as father, he wrapped his arms around the trembling young man and said quietly to him, "It's alright, Murdoch, it was just a nightmare, you're out of the hospital and you're safe now, they can't hurt you now."

"They _did_," M.D. replied in a small voice, "For two years they did and nobody did anything about it."

"I know they didn't," Hannibal said as he slowly rocked back on his heels, "And I'm sorry."

Murdoch tried to talk but his voice grew weaker and his head slumped down and rested against Hannibal's shoulder as he broke down sobbing hysterically. Hannibal rubbed his back comfortingly and spoke softly to the boy, trying to get him to calm down. Frankie watched this and looked like somebody was twisting a knife in her heart, she said nothing, but again tried to get over to Murdoch; she reached back and kicked Murdock and got him to let go of her, she crawled over to Mad Dog and wrapped her arms around his waist and tried to pull him close to her even though it wasn't possible at that moment. She pressed her temple against the back of his neck and squeezed her eyes shut as silent tears rolled down her face. Face and Murdock looked at each other and saw that they both wore the same sickened expression at the sight before them.

* * *

Face counted the number of sleeping pills left in his bottle and said, "I'm going to have to see if they carry these in any of the stores around here before we leave."

"Think they'll sleep through the rest of the night?" Murdock asked.

"As many pills as we shoved down their throats, they'll either do that or lapse into a coma," Hannibal told them as he paced around the room.

Once they'd put Mad Dog and Frankie to bed, they relocated to Hannibal's room to discuss what had happened and what they were going to do. B.A. had come in during the tail end of the excitement and gotten an eyeful himself of what had happened, but he'd been informed that he'd missed out on the real fireworks.

"Colonel," Murdock spoke up, "Permission to speak?"

"You're permitted, Murdock, what is it?" Hannibal asked.

"I want this guy, Hannibal," Murdock's voice was low and the threat in it was clear, "I know we agreed on what we were going to do to him when we caught him, but I _want_ him, Colonel, I want to make him suffer for what he's done to them."

"Understandable, Murdock," Hannibal said.

"No, I don't think you really do," Murdock told him, and that got Hannibal's attention.

Hannibal stopped pacing and they all looked at the captain as he explained, "This is my family, Colonel, that's my cousin and that's going to be my in-law with any luck, and _nobody_ has the right to do this to my family. M.D. has lost three years, people think he's a cold blooded killer, he's been locked up in a hospital where he was tortured by everybody there, all for something that he didn't do, and Frankie, her life has been ruined for years, she's spent most of her life haunted by this jerk and knowing that she wasn't safe anywhere, not even in her own home, and knowing that she couldn't even rely on her own parents to help. All of this, and for what? Because Masterson has spent all these years trying to put his hands on a girl he has no business being anywhere near, I want to hurt him, Hannibal, I want to slowly torture him until he's begging for me to end it, and I want M.D. and Frankie with me to help, retribution."

Hannibal smiled sadly and he took one step closer to Murdock and reached his hands out and lightly grabbed Murdock by the arms and said, "I understand, Murdock, believe me I do," he let go of him and added, "But we still have to do what we originally decided on, it's the only way these two are ever going to get their lives back."

Murdock looked at the colonel as if somebody had just ripped his heart out of his chest. He didn't say anything or even move, and Face and B.A. were starting to get worried, then finally Murdock blinked and shifted his weight from foot to foot, and he said with a slight stutter at the beginning, "We…w-we better keep an eye on them incase one of them has another nightmare."

"I'll watch them," Hannibal told Murdock as he squeezed the pilot's shoulder reassuringly.

Murdock slowly nodded and said, "Th-thank you, Colonel."

Face waited until Hannibal had left, then he walked up behind the pilot and asked him, "You alright, Murdock?"

"Yeah, I guess so," he answered, then turned his neck back to see Face, "I'm sorry it had to get everyone else up, if possible I would've rather handled this situation myself."

"That's alright, I wasn't sleeping anyway," Face told him.

Murdock picked up on something between the lines of what Face said and he asked him, "Something wrong?"

"Just a nightmare," Face answered.

"What about?" Murdock asked, ready to be of any help that he could since he was well familiar with Face's night terrors over the years.

"Nothing like that," Face said, knowing what was on Murdock's mind, "I had a dream that we went off, and we left Mad Dog and Frankie alone, and that creep Masterson got into the room, and he…"

Murdock nodded, "I had a similar dream…what they used to refer to as 'worse than dead'."

Face nodded grimly. "I don't like it, Murdock, they're two adults but to make sure nothing happens to them, like they _were_ a couple of kids, one of us is going to have to be with both of them at all times until this is over."

"That is unfortunate but it is also true," Murdock replied, "However, that usually _does_ become our responsibility when we take on clients for a mission to make sure they're not abducted and used as a bargaining chip against us anyway."

"But this time it's worse," Face reminded him, "Ordinarily we just have to worry about the bad guys hurting the people who hired us, but _now_, we either have to worry about Masterson hurting them, or Frankie _killing_ him."

"You really think she would do it?" Murdock asked.

"Don't you?" Face asked.

Murdock answered without missing a beat, "I know she would…and it would be justifiable, every person has a breaking point, 7 years seems long enough to me. But as Hannibal said, that's not going to help anybody, not in the long run anyway." He went over to the bed and sat on the foot of it and added, "You know, Faceman, I was thinking, maybe when we get home we could get Dr. Richter to see Mad Dog, maybe he can help him."

"You think Mad Dog's going to want to go back to the V.A. after everything he's been through?" Face asked.

"Well we wouldn't have to go to the hospital, there's a lake that he takes the patients on field trips to occasionally, it would be as close to neutral territory as we could probably manage," Murdock said, "Dr. Richter's been making a lot of progress with his patients, me included, you know before I saw him I used to be weird?"

"You don't say," Face rolled his eyes.

"M.D.'s got a lot of unresolved issues, and as much as Frankie could give B.A. a run for the title of Bad Attitude, she and her share of unresolved issues actually _are_ healthier than M.D.'s, because she releases those emotions, all her ranting and raving and swearing to kill Masterson, it's an outlet for her frustration and in fact keeps her from acting on them."

"You really believe that?" Face asked.

"Oh sure…killing is a last resort, it's what you do when you feel trapped, that there's nothing else to do, nothing else will help, she's finally got someone who believes what she has to say, that's something she's never had and it shows how relieved she is to be believed for the first time in her life. She knows that they can trust us, that we are here to help them, that they have options now," Murdock explained.

Face didn't get it but he nodded to convince Murdock he was going along with it, and he said, "I just hope it isn't too late to actually help them."

* * *

Hannibal sat in a chair by the writing table and watched Mad Dog and Frankie as they slept. Nobody had objected more than he did to the idea of letting them sleep together incase Mad Dog would have another nightmare and lash out, but in the end their votes on the matter hadn't counted. And in hindsight, maybe the kids were right; of course it didn't hurt that they had a few hundred milligrams of sedatives in their systems right now either, also perhaps in their favor was that Frankie had fallen asleep pressed against Mad Dog's back, where it would be harder for him to choke her if he started to attack in his sleep, but right now they were both unconscious, quiet, and through some illusion, seemed to be at peace for the time being.

What had happened a short while ago wasn't really anything new to Hannibal; coming back from a war he was only too familiar with what nightmares could do to people, especially when the nightmares weren't the subconscious playing games with the conscious mind, but were in fact vivid flashbacks to actual events. The fact that they'd gotten through this episode without any furniture breaking, or any bones for that matter, said to him that they were lucky and that this was not as bad as it could've been.

He knew that Murdock was right though; there wasn't anything that a court of law could do to really recompense for the hell these two had been put through. He leaned back in the chair and thought on the matter; maybe before they turned Masterson over to the cops he'd let the three Murdocks take turns beating him with a blunt object, something that wouldn't leave very specific markings. He leaned even further back and tried to recall what his mother's preferred weapon of choice was whenever his father came home late at night…let's see, there was the traditional rolling pin, a frying pan, one of the empty milk bottles, and also a police nightstick that he had never managed to find out _where_ she got it from or exactly _what_ she used it for. As he was pondering on those old memories, he heard someone tap on the door and it opened as Murdock stepped in.

"Everything okay, Colonel?" he whispered.

"Everything's fine, Murdock," Hannibal assured him, "They're dead to the world."

"If you don't mind, Colonel," Murdock said as he closed the door partway, "I'd like to be the one here when they wake up, I'd like to try talking to them about what happened."

Hannibal didn't seem too sure and he said, "Well alright, Murdock, but what good do you think that'll do?"

"I wanted to suggest that when we get back to L.A., that maybe one of my doctors at the V.A. could help M.D., I think he needs professional help."

"That seems to be an understatement," Hannibal said as he pushed the chair forward so all four legs touched down again and he got up, "Alright, they're all yours, Captain, but I think it's going to be a while."

Murdock waited until Hannibal had left the room and gone back to his own down the hall, then Murdock checked on the two occupants in the bed, and when he was satisfied that they weren't going to be waking up anytime soon, he went over to the dresser where he'd stashed the transmitter and he turned it on. It was late enough in the night, or rather early enough in the morning, that if Masterson had gone back to his room he _had_ to be asleep or somewhere near it.

Murdock cleared his throat and sang into the microphone, very quietly, very grimly, "Diiiiiiiid yoooooou, ever see a hearse go by and think that someday you'd surely die? They put you in a little box and cover you over with dirt and rocks, and all goes well for about a week and then your coffin begins to leak! A big green worm with rolling eyes goes in your mouth and out your eyes. Your stomach turns a slimy green and pus pours out like whipping cream, you put it on a slice of bread and that's what you eat when you are dead." He summed it up with a creepy laugh worthy of The Shadow, and then shut the transmitter off. If Masterson heard that, then good, let him stay up all night trying to find out where it came from, and if he didn't, then Murdock decided the Phantom of the Airwaves would strike again tomorrow night.

Considering his job done for the night, Murdock went over to the bed and climbed in beside M.D. since he figured the threat was over for the night, and went to sleep beside two of his new favorite people.

* * *

Hannibal had gone back to his own room, and without intending to, slowly drifted off to sleep, and quickly lapsed into a dream of his own that could very well qualify as a nightmare.

They were back in California, or at least somewhere back in the states, and he could see a typical suburban neighborhood and a typical suburban block. The air was warm and the sky was gold and pink, the sun was starting to set. He guessed that the season must've been in the spring, or possibly early summer, but whatever time it was, it hadn't gotten hot yet. He looked to the house directly in front of him, a two story house in the middle of the street. He heard giggling and laughing, and looked up and saw it was coming through an open window on the second floor.

It was a bedroom window, and looking in it he could see two people, and he realized it was Murdock and Frankie. For some reason, Mad Dog wasn't anywhere to be found, and Hannibal quickly realized why. Inside Frankie's bedroom Murdock had brought in a dress bag, and unzipping it he revealed a white wedding dress. It was not a typical wedding dress however, in fact it looked like a very old wedding dress. As a matter of fact, Hannibal realized, it looked like his mother's wedding dress, least of all from that time period. It was white, short sleeved, the neckline was a wide V that went from shoulder to shoulder, the dress's skirt seemed to be made up of three or four skirts, double, or more precisely, triple or quadruple deckered on top of each other. And with it was a white veil, and, for some reason Hannibal didn't understand, a big fat white ribbon for her to tie in her hair.

It seemed to Hannibal that Murdock was either the dressmaker or the tailor getting her fitted for it. He had brought along a tape measurer but didn't get very far with it because when he tried measuring her more intimate places, she decked him. But, it was quickly brushed off as they resumed their business of getting the dress ready for Frankie's wedding.

"I want to see how it fits," she told him.

"Alright," Murdock answered, and proceeded to strip down to put it on.

When he realized that he had an audience of one watching him, he let out a high pitched scream and covered himself with the dress until she stepped out of the room. Then he proceeded to slip it on over his head. Looking at himself in the mirror he apparently liked how he looked and proceeded to put a pair of long white gloves that came up near his elbows, and then put on the dress shoes that looked more like dainty white boots, and started doing a little dance around the room. Then he returned to the bed where the dress had been laid out on and picked up the ribbon and tied it in his hair, and then picked up the veil and placed it over his face. He started humming a tune to himself as he fixed his hair through the veil, and so didn't see the person climbing in the window. The next thing Murdock knew was he was being dragged off, and Hannibal was able to see it was by Masterson, who threw a pillow case over the bride's head, then picked Murdock up with one arm and climbed out the window with him in tow and down a ladder pressed up against the side of the house, and out to the street and unceremoniously tossed Murdock into the back of a getaway car, and climbed in the backseat with him so he couldn't escape, and had another man start the car and drive off.

Hannibal wasn't sure how, but he was there when the car pulled up outside of a church, and he followed the two men and their captive in the front door and into the chapel, where there was already a minister waiting. Murdock struggled and resisted every step of the way but Masterson jerked him along and never gave him a chance to try breaking loose or to even pull the sheet off of his head. Murdock was dragging his feet the second half of the way down the aisle, but Masterson had one arm hooked through Murdock's and threatened to break it if he didn't keep up the pace. They reached the minister and Masterson told the clergymen, "Alright we're here, let's get on with it."

The minister went into the usual wedding ceremony dialogue, and every time the bride was expected to answer, only a high pitched muffle was heard from under the pillow case, or the whole slumped forward and down as the bride nodded. When it was over, Masterson pulled the pillow case up, and in the process also yanked up the veil, and looked like he was going to have a heart attack when he saw Murdock standing there in the wedding dress, the big white bow half undone and the ribbon trailing down the side of his face.

Murdock stood there with his clothes disheveled and his white gloved hands on his hips as he tapped one foot and said, "Well I _hope_ you're happy," he raised a balled up gloved hand to his forehead and said in a histrionic voice bordering on crocodile tears, "I'm so distraught I think I'm going to have a headache during our whole honeymoon,"

"What the hell are you doing here?" Masterson demanded to know.

Murdock shrugged off his melancholic attitude and batted his eyelashes and said giddily, "I'm your bride, silly boy!"

Masterson glared at him and shoved Murdock back with both hands, and with such force that Murdock fell back against the pews. He screamed and jumped back to his feet and screamed in a woman's tone, "I've never seen anything like it! Married 30 seconds and already you're pushing me around and putting your hands on me!" He went over to the man and grabbed two handfuls of Masterson's neck and choked him, "How dare you raise your hand to a defenseless young woman?"

Masterson reached out and backhanded Murdock and he fell back but managed to stay on his feet. His hand automatically went to his cheek and he pulled it back and saw the white glove was now stained red with blood. That was when the whole picture changed, Murdock's white dress started running with red, as if the spade and club soldiers in Wonderland had spilled a whole can of red paint on a white rose bush. Pretty soon every inch of white, the dress, the gloves, the shoes, the ribbon and bow, were all blood red, and Murdock looked like he was about to rip the whole church apart with his mind, no more did he look like the blushing bride, now he looked like Carrie White on prom night.

"Married in red," Murdock quoted in a low and sinister tone, "Better off dead."

"Huh—what?" Hannibal asked himself as he shot up in the chair he'd fallen asleep in and realized it had just been a dream. He looked around the room, it was still dark, and B.A. was still asleep, and all was quiet through the walls, everybody was still asleep, nothing was going on.

Hannibal leaned forward in the chair and scratched his head and asked himself, "What in the world was that all about?"

Outside he realized the storm had died down, now there was just a light tapping of rain on the windows. When Hannibal's heart stopped pounding in his ears, he got up from the chair and quietly eased himself onto the unoccupied side of the bed, and decided to try going back to sleep, and he prayed for a less unusual dream. Though he did have to laugh, Murdock in a wedding dress, what were the odds? Hannibal sat up when he realized it rang similar to an old silent film he had seen as a kid, though the name of it escaped him now; but, a few details changed around, it was almost the same scene perfectly, least of all where the bridal abduction was concerned. He fell back asleep trying to figure what possible connection could be drawn between Murdock, Frankie, Masterson, and a wedding dress.


	18. Chapter 18

"So what do you think, Hannibal?" Face asked the next morning.

"I think we need to split Frankie and Mad Dog up and talk to them separately, and see what each of them has to say," Hannibal answered, "I'm sure that there's something they're not telling us, we just have to find out what it is, and we have to make sure it's not Frankie's words coming out of M.D.'s mouth."

"Suppose we do that and they _still_ give us the same answers?" Face asked.

"Then we'll have a new problem to deal with," Hannibal told him, "Murdock's talking to them right now, we'll give him a few minutes and then we'll go in and see what we can get out of them."

* * *

"You want to what?" Frankie asked Murdock.

"I know that there's a stigma attached to people who see psychotherapists for help, but if you can find a real one they _are_ a lot of help, I ought to know, I've been seeing them for 10 years," Murdock told her, "And there's one doctor in particular I've been seeing who I think could help Mad Dog."

"Nobody can help him," Frankie said.

Mad Dog had come out of his drug induced stupor still a bit groggy and not all there, so Murdock had excused him initially to speak to Frankie. She had been all there when she woke up, she just happened to be entirely on the pessimistic side when she had, and she hadn't liked one thing Murdock had suggested yet; and now, Murdock noted, she just seemed to be getting worse.

"Shrinks ain't gonna help him," Frankie told Murdock, "Nothing can ever make the nightmares go away, he's ruined, isn't he?"

"Frankie," Murdock scratched his head, "You ever have nightmares?"

"Sure," she answered.

"Often?"

"Yeah."

"About Masterson?"

"All the time," Frankie answered, "I'd say he takes up about 60% of all my nightmares."

"But you see," Murdock pointed out, "You're still a very functional person in spite of this. Now, Murdoch will continuously suffer _flashbacks_ to what happened, that is inevitable, but perhaps with the right psychiatric treatment, the nightmares in and of themselves will taper off, _any_ progress that can be made with him will be better than the way he is now, you have to realize that. I _know_ that you want him to get better than he is."

"Yeah, I do, but nobody's helped us yet, why would this doctor of yours agree to do it now?" Frankie wanted to know.

"Because," Murdock said, "Dr. Richter is not one of those dime a dozen quacks who's nuttier than the patients, he actually knows what he's doing and he cares about his patients."

Frankie sneered and rolled her eyes, "Oh yeah right."

"He does, Frankie, believe it or not there are doctors that _do_," he said.

"Alright, I don't believe it," she told him, "If doctors knew anything then it wouldn't have taken me attempting a human torch act to get locked up in the first place. Getting thrown into the madhouse was a lot easier when Nellie Bly did it 100 years ago."

"Yes well…anybody can and will argue that the doctors know more what they're doing today than when she did it," Murdock pointed out.

"Not much, they _still_ use electroshock therapy and everybody knows that doesn't do any good," Frankie told him.

"Point taken," Murdock replied, "Look Frankie, do you trust me?"

"Right about now you're the _only_ person I trust," Frankie told him.

"Then believe me when I say if we can get back to the V.A. and find Dr. Richter, that he can help Mad Dog."

"We'll see," she said.

* * *

"Are you sure this is a good idea, Hannibal?" Murdock asked once he'd been informed of the others' plan.

"I think we need to get to the bottom of this," Hannibal said, "Twice now since we've gotten Mad Dog out of the hospital, he's woken up screaming, Frankie hasn't had such a reaction once, and I'd like to know why."

"Well you consider that it's two different situations for them," Murdock said, "Frankie hasn't said anything about the orderlies beating her up, and there's a reason for that, _she's_ not the one locked away for killing someone."

"Still, if what they say is true, wouldn't you think that nightmares would be a somewhat regular occurrence for her as well?" Hannibal asked.

"While that is definitely true, Colonel, I feel a need to remind you that not all nightmares leave you waking up screaming in the night, sometimes you just wake up," Murdock pointed out.

Hannibal was getting the feeling that his captain was being less than cooperative with him today. Murdock met his gaze as if they were two gunslingers facing off at high noon and Murdock said, "You still don't believe them, do you?"

"I believe them, and I trust them, the only question is how much," Hannibal said, "That's why we're going to do this, they had a very convincing story when they first told us, but we're going to see if they give us the same answers a second time around. B.A. and I will speak to M.D., you and Face talk to Frankie."

Murdock nodded and said, "Alright, Colonel."

* * *

Hannibal and Face each did a very good job of pretending to have a poor memory and so asked Murdoch and Frankie to refresh their memories on certain details of what they'd been told. Hannibal, B.A. and M.D. were holed up in Hannibal's room and Murdock, Face and Frankie were in Murdock's room since that left Face's unoccupied room between them and no chance that one could hear the other.

"Did you say you'd ever met Frankie's parents?" Hannibal asked.

"No," he answered.

"Had you ever met Masterson?"

"Once," Murdoch said.

"How long ago were you arrested?"

"Three years."

"And how long did you say you'd been locked up at Freemont?"

"About two years," he answered.

"Did Frankie ever try to help you escape from the hospital?"

"Once," M.D. said.

"What happened?" Hannibal asked.

"We cut the power and left, we got halfway down the stairs and we ran into one of the guards, another inmate had gotten loose, and he stabbed the guard, we jumped over him and ran down the stairs. Then another guard caught us, after that they made sure it was impossible to sneak out of my room again after lights out," Mad Dog explained.

"Why were you transferred to the V.A. hospital?" Hannibal asked him.

"I don't know," he said.

"You never met Frankie's parents, do you know what their names are?"

"No, she never told me," Mad Dog said.

* * *

"Did Mad Dog ever meet your parents?" Face asked.

"No, with the age difference between us, it wouldn't have been a good idea," Frankie said.

"Did he ever meet Masterson?"

"Once, he answered the door one night when the pervert came to call," Frankie answered.

"How long has Mad Dog been locked up at the Freemont hospital?" Face asked.

"Two years," she said.

"How long have you been locked up at the same hospital?"

"Two months."

"When was Mad Dog arrested for murdering that woman?" Face asked.

"Three years ago."

"What took so long?" he asked.

"The prosecutor was killed and a new one had to be brought in and familiarize himself with the whole case," Frankie answered.

"Where were you when that happened?" Face asked.

"Standing next to him on the courthouse steps," she said.

"Who shot him?" Face asked.

"Nobody knows," she answered, "The gunman got away."

"How old were you when M.D. got arrested?" Face asked.

"17."

"How old was he?"

"22."

"How old were you when Masterson first started trying to get in the house when you were alone?" Face asked.

"13."

"Does Mad Dog know what the names of your parents are?" he asked.

"No," Frankie said.

"What are their names?"

"Frank and Luciana Murdock," Frankie answered.

* * *

"Their answers are almost exactly the same," Hannibal said, "The only questions that didn't match were things that they didn't tell each other."

"Of course now the issue of trust has reversed, they know _why_ we questioned them so I doubt they're going to believe _us_ too much," Face said.

"That's alright, for the time being they don't have to, they can't get off this island without us," Hannibal said.

Well, Murdock thought, that wasn't entirely true.

"Uh Colonel," he spoke up, "About our situation to get back home."

"Yes?"

Murdock leaned over to Hannibal and asked, "What's the plan for the big angry mudsucker?"

Hannibal patted his chest pocket and said, "I've got a dose of his bedtime shot ready to go."

Well, there went that idea out the window. Oh well, he'd just have to come up with something else.

"It's too bad we have to go back," Murdock said, "I'm really starting to like it here."

"Well one good thing about it is with Lynch in the hospital for the time being," Face said, "We shouldn't have to worry about anyone else popping in at the V.A. and making the unpleasant discovery that you're gone, that way as far as anybody in the military is concerned, there's just the three of us to look for once we get back."

* * *

The next morning, Crane and Decker found that the trees had been moved out of the road and, in a new car, headed out to the V.A. again to check on Captain Murdock. The evidence of the storm was still plain to see, there were trees down all over, several others had been hit by lightning and cracked down the middle or turned white, and the curbs of the road had been flooded with standing water that still hadn't dropped down the sewer grates yet.

By the time they pulled up to the V.A., it was obvious that the hospital hadn't been spared damages from the storm either; large tree limbs were scattered all over the road, drag marks indicated whole trees had been removed, but _not_ before some vehicles apparently had to drive over the hospital's lawn to get onto the main road.

"This place is a mess," Decker observed as they got out of the car.

And inside wasn't much better.

As soon as they got in the doors they were lost in a crowd of people coming and going, only half of them looking like staff members, and the rest were anybody's guess. Decker and Crane pushed their way through to speak to someone at the front desk, but there was nobody there. Decker looked around for anybody who looked like they worked there to speak to, and up behind the desk came a short plump black woman in her late 30s or early 40s who was half a foot shorter than he was and looked like she was ready to start stabbing people with hypodermics just for the fun of it.

"What do you need?" she asked.

"We're here to see H.M. Murdock," Decker answered.

"Do you have an appointment?" she asked short-temperedly.

"No," Decker started to answer.

"Then I can't help you, goodbye," the nurse said.

"Now wait just a minute," Decker said as he grabbed her by the sleeve to get her attention, "I am Colonel Roderick Decker of the U.S. Army."

"Well whatever your problem is, I can't help you," she said, "You'll have to take a number like everyone else."

"Can you at least tell us which is Mr. Murdock's room?" Crane asked.

"Yeah, it's 104, but don't bother going because he ain't there," the nurse told them.

A light bulb went off over Decker's head, aha.

"He's not here?" he asked.

"No he's not," the nurse sniped him, "Take a look around, pal, we just about got wiped out by that storm last night. Our generator got hit by lightning and was set on fire, so was part of the east wing, the damn roof collapsed, we've been busing patients out to other hospitals all night and have had 20 wounded relocated, and 30 others who escaped during a riot. Top it all off, half of our patient records were ruined by water damage when the rain started pouring in despite all windows being shut tight. We've been taking head counts all morning to find out who's still here, so I can't tell you if Mr. Murdock is among the wounded transferred out to other hospitals, or if he was one who ran out of here during the jailbreak. And _you_ come in here asking about 1 patient when we've got a hundred others still running around loose and need to be recaptured and put back in their rooms? Pal if you don't get out of here in the next ten seconds, _you're_ going to need a room here!"

It was not often that someone put Decker in his place, least of all a woman, but suddenly as he took a step back away from the administration desk, he felt like he'd been beat down with a sledge hammer to the size of a tent stake.

"May we at least _see_ his room?" Crane asked.

The nurse let out a sharp huff and said dismissively, "Yeah, sure, fine, just stay out of my way."

As they made their way through the labyrinth of patients and doctors, Crane started thinking about a rumor he'd heard several years ago, about how that movie "Halloween" had been based on a real story when a group of mental patients broke out of a hospital, and suddenly he couldn't wait to get out of here.

There was half an inch of standing water in the hallway outside Murdock's room. Decker looked in the small screened window in the door and saw that nobody was there, but the door was unlocked so he opened it up and they stepped in. Decker's plan had been to rifle through Murdock's belongings and see if there was anything that would indicate he still had any ties to the A-Team, but his attention had been drawn away from the task at hand and instead he looked, as did Crane, at the row of arcade games over against the wall, all of them had been unplugged and a few even had 'Out of Order' signs on them. And beside them was a tall easel with a large roll of paper slung over it, the type newspapers were printed on, only this roll had been used for paintings that looked like a child had done them with finger paint.

Decker managed to pull himself away from that unusual sight and started sorting through everything by and under Murdock's bed; under the bed was a plastic milk crate that held a teddy bear, a toy gun belt with two plastic six shooters, a decoder ring, old pictures of Murdock has a kid with his mother and grandparents, only _one_ picture of him with the members of the A-Team, dated 1971.

"A grown man lives here?" Crane asked as he looked around at the childlike environment of the room.

Decker was starting to have his own doubts as well. He sorted through the contents of a shoebox under Murdock's bed and found a metal wings pin that children got on commercial flights, a couple of plastic toy airplanes and a few paper ones that had come unfolded. Next he opened the drawer on the nightstand and saw something that convinced him they'd hit pay dirt.

"Postcards," he said as he took them out in handfuls, "Dozens of postcards, his only family is dead, so else who could he possibly be writing to?"

"I don't think anyone," Crane told him, and showed Decker what he'd found. A pile of sheets of drawing paper that had pictures from the postcards cut out and pasted on to make one big scene with them.

Decker was just about ready to give up. "So maybe I was wrong," he said.

For not knowing Decker any longer than Crane did, the captain had a feeling he ought to ask for that in writing because he doubted the colonel would admit to it too many more times.

The same nurse from the front desk walked past the doorway, then stepped back and asked the men, "Which Murdock did you say you were looking for?"

Decker had just opened his mouth to answer when the question fully hit him, "_Which _Murdock?"

"That's right, I just found the paperwork for another patient, an M.D. Murdock," she said.

Decker took the file from her and scanned over it and shook his head, "This patient is too young to be the man we're looking for, we came to see H.M. Murdock."

"That's what I thought but I figured I'd check anyway," the nurse told him.

"Well, now what?" Crane asked.

"Now I suppose we're back to square one," Decker said reluctantly.

* * *

"Oooooooohhh," Murdock groaned as he rubbed his stomach and leaned back in his chair, "I think I ate too much earlier."

"You think?" Frankie asked from where she sat on the foot of the bed, "You spend all morning stuffing yourself on imported licorice and chocolate covered honey in the hotel's gift shop and _then_ eat a five course lunch in the dining room, I'm surprised you haven't popped yet."

"Oof, nobody get a pin out," Murdock said as he covered his mouth.

The door opened and B.A. came in and said, "Ooh boy what a meal that was. I don't think I've eaten so much lobster and steak in my whole life."

Murdock groaned from where he sat and started to look a little green. B.A. saw this and giggled as he went over to the pilot and added, "Of course, I don't think I could eat as many deviled eggs as you did, Murdock, let's see how many was it, 10, 12, 14…"

Murdock groaned even louder and jumped out of his chair and made it into the bathroom and slammed the door behind him. B.A. laughed at the pilot's expense and sat down in his chair.

"What'd you go and do that for?" Frankie asked.

"As much trouble as that fool's caused me over the years, this is my payback," B.A. told her.

Face came into the room and said, "Well, Sosa just got a call from Masterson about the matter of his date standing him up last night."

"So now what?" Frankie asked.

"Well it doesn't sound like he's hurting too much for it," Face said, "Masterson says that he's going to be flying back to California tomorrow anyway."

"And what do we do now?" Frankie asked.

* * *

"I think it would be in our best interest to leave before Masterson does," Hannibal said, "He knows not a lot of people come here, especially by airplane, so if he thinks he's traveling the friendly skies alone tomorrow, it'll keep his guard down and we'll already be on the ground waiting for him when they land."

"So when should we leave?" Face asked.

"Soon, of course we can't let B.A. know that for obvious reasons," Hannibal explained, "So, you guys get your stuff packed up and put back on the plane, then later I'll keep B.A. distracted so you can get our things put on the plane as well, and then we'll come find you and that'll be the time to put B.A. right back into dreamland."

"Just hope he doesn't catch on to it," Face said.

Once Hannibal left the room, Face went and found Murdock and the others and told them about the plan. They quickly went to work packing up everything and sneaking it out of the hotel and back out to the aircraft carrier at the shore and up into the plane. They made a second trip back and cleaned out Hannibal and B.A.'s room as well and got their stuff loaded on the plane also. As Face was making his way down the platform the second time, he heard Murdock call out, "Face, watch out for Billy!"

"Who's Billy?" Frankie asked as they got down the platform.

"My dog," Murdock answered.

"What dog?" Frankie and M.D. asked.

"His _invisible_ dog," Face answered.

Frankie and Murdoch turned to each other and she said, "You hear that? The guy talks to an invisible dog…why the hell not?" she shrugged, "I knew a guy at the hospital who talked to green canaries."

"_Green_ canaries," Murdock laughed.

"So what're we supposed to do until they come and find us?" Mad Dog asked.

"Hey, I know, I know!" Murdock ran back up the platform, up the jet's stairway, and came back down a moment later carrying his baseball and bat, "We've got plenty of time for one last game before we have to leave."

"Why not?" Face asked hesitantly, "Play ball."

* * *

Hannibal and B.A. had heard the sound of the ballgame a while before they ever came up on the scene. By the time they got to where Murdock had drawn a rough diamond in the sand, everybody had had a turn at a different position; Murdock, Face and Mad Dog had all taken turns as batter, and had come close a few times to losing the ball. Now it was Frankie's turn at bat and Murdock was pitching, Face was behind her catching but so far he hadn't caught anything except one ball to his collarbone. Thankfully for him, he thought, Murdock wasn't a baseball pro in his previous life before they knew him.

"Alright you guys, it's getting late!" Hannibal called over to them.

"Aw Colonel," Murdock whined, not wanting the game to be over just yet, "Can't we play just a little while longer?"

Hannibal smirked, how could anybody say no to that? He gave in and said, "Alright, Murdock, one more toss, but that's it."

"Oh goodie," Murdock said, then turned back around and delivered a strong windup and a pitch.

Face was just hoping that he didn't get hit with the ball again, and he was surprised because from where he stood it appeared to be moving in slow motion. But he could tell from the angle that there was no way Frankie was going to be able to—

CRACK!

So he was wrong.

Again, in what seemed like slow motion, everybody watched as the ball spiraled back up into the air, far higher than Murdock had pitched it, and watched to see where it was going to land. They realized the _where_ but it happened before they could say anything.

BONK!

The rubber ball hit B.A. square in the head and his eyes rolled back and he fell backward and hit the ground, everybody came running to see what had happened, Frankie still with the bat in hand.

"Did I kill him?" she asked worriedly.

Hannibal knelt down and checked the large man's pulse and said, "Nope, just knocked him out and saved me the trouble of sticking him with a needle. Alright, everybody grab a limb and let's be off."

"Man, did you see that, Face?" Murdock asked as they grabbed B.A.'s arms and started to lift him up.

"I'll say, that's a million to one shot if I ever saw one," Face said, "Too bad we couldn't plan it out to happen again, that would _really_ come in handy."


	19. Chapter 19

A few minutes after the Gulfstream left the island, Murdock got on the loudspeaker and asked for Hannibal to come up to the cockpit. He pulled back the curtain and asked, "What's up, Captain?"

"I have a question," Murdock told Hannibal as the colonel sat down beside him, "You think you could get Frankie to come up here? I want to ask her something."

"How come?" Hannibal asked.

"Well, Colonel, I think I might know how her mind's working, or have some idea anyway, we've been trying to get answers out of them but I don't think we've been asking the right questions, I think I know what they are finally."

Hannibal thought about it and nodded, "Alright, Murdock, I'll see what I can do."

He disappeared from the cockpit and a few minutes later Frankie pushed the curtain back and stepped in.

"Hannibal said you wanted to see me," she said.

"Yeah, would you mind sitting down?" Murdock gestured to the empty seat beside him.

Frankie did and got herself strapped in and asked him, "What's up?"

"Well I've just been thinking about something and I was wondering if you could help me out," he said, "You probably noticed that _we_ noticed Mad Dog's…unusual behavior for lack of a better term…he seems very dependent on you, which in part I can understand because you're the only one who really remembers what happened the night of the murder…but was he like that _before_ it happened as well?"

Frankie shook her head, "I don't think he was ever quite _all_ there, but he used to be put together a lot better than he is these days."

"Ah, and you think what Masterson did just _pushed_ him over the edge?"

"Something like that," Frankie said, "You try waking up covered in blood with a murdered woman at your feet and tell me what it does for _your_ mental health."

"Point taken," Murdock said, "Alright, I've got another question for you…I've noticed Frankie that you seem to blame yourself for what happened to him. That it was your fault because you were with him and Masterson found out…is that right?" he looked over at her and watched as she slowly drew into herself, "Do you think that Mad Dog would be better off without you in the picture?"

Frankie looked down towards the floor for a while before she finally answered, "He would never have been in this position if it wasn't for me, his whole life wouldn't have been ruined."

It was certainly hard to argue a point like that when you looked at the big picture, but Murdock looked at it from the other side as well, "And how long do you think you could've lasted without telling anyone what happened, without having _anyone_ believe you? That helped, didn't it? Knowing that M.D. believed you, that's why you went to see him, so Masterson wouldn't find you."

"I managed for all those years just fine, I could've lasted a couple more without anyone knowing," Frankie said.

"Sure, but think of all the fun you'd have missed as well," Murdock said with a coy smirk, "When else would you get to fly to a tropical island with a sendoff from the military?"

Frankie had one of those 'don't you dare make me smile' looks on her face and it was a battle she quickly lost. But she composed herself and said, "Yeah, but at what cost?"

"Well, there's no guarantee that either one of you two would've been any better off if you _hadn't_ met each other," Murdock said, "Now we know Mad Dog doesn't have any family, I get the impression he doesn't have a lot of friends either."

"I know the feeling," Frankie said, "He's my only friend."

"You see?" Murdock said, "You two would be hopeless without each other."

"We ain't doing much better as it is either," she replied, "It's too late to do anything about the past but sometimes I think it'd be better if he could just forget I ever existed."

"I don't think you really mean that, cous," Murdock said.

"We'll see about that," was her only response.

* * *

Hannibal seldom slept through the flights, he always had to be alert incase they needed to knock B.A. out again. But this time he fell asleep, and he had a dream that the plane ran out of fuel and they had to make an emergency landing. He didn't know where exactly they had landed, just short of the jungle, but what jungle was anybody's guess. They had no sooner come out of the plane that they had officers on them, all armed and screaming at them. One by one they were rounded up and taken to a prison that seemed more suited as a dungeon. There was straw on the floor and the cell was lit by a single torch on the wall. Their cell was next to several others where a lot of native male inmates were bunked up, and Hannibal wondered what the prisoner quota was in this country.

As the hours passed they heard the guards talking, and it seemed that the right hand man to whoever was in charge, was somebody named Abdul, Hannibal remembered that. At night, once most of the guards were left and the other inmates were asleep, he woke the others up, and asked Murdock to tell them all about ammonia. It didn't take long for the Captain to get worked up and soon he was jumping up and down screaming at the top of his lungs and howling like a monkey. That was when they heard one of the guards coming. Hannibal had the others get to the far back of the cell, he grabbed the torch out of the holder on the wall, doused it in a bucket of drinking water, pinched his nose and said in a reasonable impression of the head guard, "Abdul, get in here!"

"Sir?" the guard asked as he came to the cell, "You in there, sir?"

"Open that door you fool," Hannibal said, and as the cell door clattered open and the guard stepped in he asked, "Do you realize the reprimand this prison would be in for if word got out about one of its own guards being _locked_ in with the common prisoners?"

"Oh yes sir!" the guard said as he saluted.

Hannibal let go of his noise and said in an equally nasal tone, "Take off your hat."

"Yes sir," Abdul said as he complied and removed his pith helmet.

WHACK!

Hannibal beat the guard over the head with the torch and he spun slightly and fell down, then everybody was running out of the cell and out of the prison, with the rest of the guards running after them and shooting.

That was when Hannibal realized somebody was shaking him and he jerked awake.

"Ha-what is it? What's going on?" he asked.

It was Face who had woken him up and he said, "Murdock says we're going to be landing soon. Hannibal, I think we're going to have a problem."

"What's that?" Hannibal yawned.

"Well where exactly are we all going to be staying?" he pointed over to Frankie and Murdoch who were asleep and said, "They don't have any place to stay, and I don't know about you but I've got a problem letting them know where any of us live long term."

"We'll worry about that later," Hannibal told him, "The first thing we're going to do once we get grounded is look up Frankie's parents, and pay them a visit, what did she say their names were?"

"Frank and Luciana Murdock," Face said.

* * *

"Well," Hannibal said as he and B.A. looked over the mailbox in the yard with F & L Murdock painted on the side, "This is the place." He saw the house again and took a step back, it was a two story house just like the one from his dream the other night. And he would just bet one of those front windows on the second floor were to Frankie's room, _just_ like in the dream.

"I'm getting tired of this, Hannibal," B.A. said, "Why couldn't Faceman come with you for this?"

"Because, on the offchance that the Murdocks don't want to talk to me, _nobody_ has the nerve to refuse to speak with _you_," Hannibal said coyly.

B.A. scowled at him and said, "You ain't funny, Hannibal."

"Shut up," he said as they went up to the door. Hannibal peered in through the window in the front door but didn't see anybody, so he rang the bell.

A woman answered the door. She looked somewhere in her mid 40s and had tan-blonde hair in a perm curl that looked like she did it herself. She wore a plain tan plaid house dress and had a green and white apron on over it.

"Yes?" she asked.

"Are you Mrs. Murdock?" Hannibal asked.

"Yes, why?" she asked.

"Is your husband home?" he asked.

She looked past them to a car pulling up at the curb and said, "Well here he comes right now, what's this about?"

"It's about your daughter," Hannibal said.

The woman's eyes widened, "Frankie?"

Hannibal and B.A. turned to see the man coming up the sidewalk; he looked about as old as his wife though he wore it slightly better, he had a head full of black hair and was dressed in a three piece suit and lugging a briefcase with him. When he saw the men standing on his porch with his now distraught wife, he stopped and inquired, "What's going on?"

"Frank, these men are here…they say it's about Frankie," Luciana said.

The man looked ready to swallow his tongue, he forced out, "What's she done now?" as he went up the steps.

"Why would you assume she's done something?" Hannibal asked as one by one they made their way into the house.

"Because anytime somebody from the hospital comes out to see us, the only reason is _because_ Frankie's done something," Frank answered as he set his briefcase down in the hallway.

They moved into the living room and Hannibal told the couple, "Mr. and Mrs. Murdock, we're here because your daughter has made some allegations to us regarding a man named…"

"Oh Lord, not Richard again," Luciana moaned halfheartedly as she and her husband sat down in matching chairs and Hannibal and B.A. sat down on the couch opposite from them.

"Yes, I believe that was the name, Richard Masterson," Hannibal said, "What can you tell us about him?"

"What do you need to know?" Frank asked, "He's a friend of ours, he _was_ my business partner several years ago. You know, I don't know what Frankie's problem is, but she has never liked him since she first met the man."

"Do you have any idea why that is?" Hannibal asked.

"I have no clue," Frank told them.

Hannibal shifted his attention to Mrs. Murdock, he noticed that the woman had slumped her head down and her lips were moving as if she was talking to herself.

"Mrs. Murdock?" he asked.

"I'm sorry," she said as she looked at them, "It's just that I hoped she would be getting better by now, she was always a troubled child."

"Why is that?" Hannibal asked.

"She was starved for attention," Luciana said, "She was an only child and resented us both being gone all day, she tried to convince me to quit my job to stay home with her…we both had to work."

Frank looked down for a second and added as he cleared his throat, "Business wasn't so good a few years ago, suddenly we needed two incomes to compensate for the loss of one."

"I'd always been home when Frankie got out of school before that, she just didn't like it when I had to get a job too, but it couldn't be helped," Luciana said, "But she would make up the most outrageous stories to get me to stay home with her."

"What kind of stories?" Hannibal asked.

"She started saying that Richard tried to break into the house, that he tried to attack her. I know she never liked the man but I can't understand why she'd make up such blatant lies like that."

"How long did those stories keep up for?" Hannibal asked.

"Oh, years," she told him, "They never changed, it never made any sense."

"But you don't think there was any merit to them?" he asked.

"No, she was just trying to get attention," Luciana answered.

"So why didn't she come up with a different story since she knew you didn't believe her?" Hannibal asked.

"Hey you guys are the doctors, you're the specialists," Frank said, "We tried finding out what was wrong with her a long time ago. When she was a kid we took her to one of those child therapists, she never opened her mouth the whole session, she'd never say one word to the doctor."

Hannibal and B.A. exchanged a single glance that said both were thinking the same thing. Hannibal pushed on, "Did she ever tell anyone at school these same stories?"

"No, only us," Luciana said.

"Why didn't she have any friends when she was a kid?" Hannibal asked, "I mean she didn't, did she?"

Luciana shook her head, "No, she was a shy child, she didn't like talking to anyone."

"What about when she was older?" Hannibal asked, "She started engaging in very…questionable behavior."

"Still just trying to get attention," Frank said, "She thought she wasn't getting enough attention at home so she started stealing cars and damaging property. I don't know what she thought she was trying to accomplish from it all."

"You know," Hannibal said slowly, "Some people might think that she was trying to tell you something with that kind of destructive behavior. Why did you finally have her committed to Freemont?"

"Well she…" Luciana was at a loss for words for a few seconds, "She was throwing up, violently, one night, we found out she had drunk gasoline and was trying to set herself on fire. We knew then that we had to get her professional help, we couldn't figure out what had come over her."

"And have you since then?" Hannibal asked.

"No, the doctors haven't told us much, they say they haven't been able to make much progress with her," Luciana answered.

"I see," Hannibal said, "When your daughter was a teenager, did she ever date anyone?"

"Oh Lord no," Luciana said, almost with a surprised laugh, "Frankie's never even been interested in any boys."

Hannibal and B.A. looked to each other again and this time it didn't go unnoticed.

"What?" Frank asked, "What is it?"

"Nothing to concern yourselves about," Hannibal told them, "Now let me ask you, do you remember a couple years ago hearing about a murder that occurred over in Bakersfield, a young woman was found murdered in a man's home, Alice Arden?"

"Oh yes," Luciana nodded, "I read about it in the papers, that poor woman. They arrested the young man who killed her."

"That's one way of looking at it," Hannibal said.

Frankie looked from Hannibal to B.A. and back to Hannibal and said, visibly annoyed, "Look, doctors, maybe you can get to the point of why you came out here to see us, because it doesn't sound like there's anything new with Frankie's case than there was the last time we were called."

Hannibal sat up and said, "Mr. and Mrs. Murdock, we are not doctors, I'm Hannibal Smith and this is B.A. Baracus, we're the A-Team."

Frank's eyes bulged at this revelation and Luciana's bottom jaw dropped slightly.

"What?" she asked.

"And your daughter is _not_ at the Freemont Hospital, she hasn't been there for several days…_we_ have her now."

"My God, is she alright?" Luciana asked.

Frank rose from his chair and demanded to know, "What're you people doing with our daughter?"

"Cool it, sucker!" B.A. told him, and that shut the man up quickly, "We ain't done nothing to her, it's that fool Masterson that's done it all."

"What my Staff Sergeant is so gently trying to explain," Hannibal cynically added, "Is that we believe what Frankie has to say about Richard Masterson, as well as about you two."

"Us?" Frank was outraged.

"Yes, you see, your daughter told us how for years she tried to get you to believe when she said Masterson tried to force his way into this house when you two were both at work, but that you wouldn't listen. From there, she did whatever she could think of to be committed to a hospital where she wouldn't have to put up with either of you _and_ that Masterson couldn't get to her."

Frankie's mother looked like she'd been hit with cold water and she said, "You mean she's been telling the truth all along?"

"Not entirely," Hannibal said, "She _did_ have a boyfriend that she didn't tell you about, M.D. Murdoch, the same man who was arrested for murdering that woman in Bakersfield."

"What?!" Frank was about ready to hit the ceiling.

"What more, we have reason to believe that Masterson also killed that woman and set up M.D. Murdoch for it _because_ he knew that your daughter was seeing him," Hannibal explained.

"What?" Luciana looked close to passing out from this new information.

"Now wait just a minute, you believe that, what, based on a story that our daughter told you?" Frank asked.

"No, because your daughter knows details about the murder, details that were never released to the public and that she could _only_ have known from being in that house on the night that the murder occurred."

"Oh my God," Luciana responded, "You mean she's been telling the truth for all these years?"

"That," Hannibal replied as he stood up, "Is exactly what I'm saying."

"Where is she?" Luciana asked, "We have to see her."

"That is not going to be possible I'm afraid," Hannibal told her, "Right now your daughter is with the other member of our team, Templeton Peck, and she's being well taken care of for right now, but when we leave this house I'd advise both of you not to try calling either the police or the Army, because if you do you'll never see your daughter again. And I also advise you _against_ calling your _good_ friend Masterson and letting him know what's going on either."

Luciana's mouth opened and closed a few times, then she jumped to her feet and all but lunged at Hannibal as she pleaded with the man, "Please, don't hurt her!"

Hannibal was genuinely taken aback by that, but then he remembered the propaganda that the military was only too happy to spread about them that combated the stories of their heroic deeds and he told her, "You don't have to worry about that, the sad truth is she's safer with three wanted fugitives than she's probably ever been here in her own home."

B.A. hated to leave with the way things were at the moment but he knew that there wasn't anything left to be done here. They got up and left the house and walked out to the curb and got in Face's 'Vette and headed back to get the others.

"What do you think, B.A.?" Hannibal asked.

"I got nothing towards that girl's father one way or the other, but I feel sorry for her mama," he told the colonel.

Hannibal nodded and said, "Me too."

The car phone rang and Hannibal answered it, "Hello?"

"Hannibal, we got the van," Face said, "But there's a problem?"

B.A. yanked the phone from Hannibal and said, "A problem with my van? What is it?"

"We swept it for bugs to make sure nobody had done anything to it while we were gone," Murdock answered, "Found a tracking device on it."

"We haven't gotten rid of it yet since the minute we do they're going to know we're back," Face said, "And we thought we'd wait for you to come back before we did that."

"Are you calling from the van's phone?" Hannibal asked as he grabbed the phone back from B.A.

"No, a payphone around the block," Murdock answered.

"Must be crowded," Hannibal commented, "We'll be there in a few minutes, where're Frankie and Mad Dog?"

"They're here," Murdock told him.

Hannibal smirked and said, "I'd hate to be the next guy who opens the door to that phone booth."

* * *

While Mad Dog and Frankie waited for Murdock and Face to get back to the storage garage where they had stashed their van before leaving for the island last week, they wandered around the storage building and the whole vacant street that it was located on. Frankie lifted one foot up onto an elevated curb with a concrete foundation surrounding the green grass next to the limestone sidewalk. She walked with one foot on the curb and one foot in the street, and did so all the way up and down the block and was still doing it when Face and Murdock came back.

"Watcha doing, Frankie?" Face asked, "Looking for something?"

"Nah, I was born on the side of a hill," she answered.

Face rolled his eyes and looked at Murdock, "Great, an old joke, just what we needed."

"I don't know," Murdock said as he took his coconut out of his jacket, "I think CC liked it."

"You just couldn't forget that thing and leave it behind, could you?" Frankie asked as she put both feet up on the curb.

A flash of light caught her eye and she turned and looked at the street ahead. No traffic came through here so she could see all the way up the street and saw red and blue flashing lights in a distance. "Murdock, look!"

Murdock and Face turned and saw what she did.

"Oh great," Face groaned, "The Army already found us."

"So what do we do?" Mad Dog asked.

"Back the garage, we may have to leave without Hannibal and B.A. if they don't get here soon," Face told them.

Everybody scrambled back across the street and ran around to the back of the storage garage and watched from the windows. Luck seemed to be on their side because first they saw Face's corvette speeding from around another street and pulling up to the back of the garage.

"What did you do to the bug?" Hannibal asked as they came in the garage.

"We haven't touched it!" Face told him.

"Well get rid of it!" Hannibal replied.

"How do you think they got here so fast?" Murdock asked.

"You don't think her parents called them after we left, do ya?" B.A. asked.

"Unlikely, they probably had that bug set to go off as soon as somebody came near the van," Hannibal said.

Frankie and Mad Dog went towards the front of the building and looked out the windows as all the cars pulled up.

"They're getting out!" Frankie said.

Hannibal took a step towards the window to see who was leading the parade this time. "I think we just traded up from Lynch," he said.

"In a good or bad way?" Face asked.

"This is Colonel Decker of the United States Army," the voice boomed over the bullhorn.

"Bad," Face and Murdock agreed.


	20. Chapter 20

"You're completely surrounded," Decker informed the A-Team.

"Aw, no kidding," Hannibal sarcastically replied.

"You know him?" Mad Dog asked.

"Enough to wish I didn't," Hannibal said as he signaled for everybody to get down.

"Everyone in Vietnam knew him," Face added, "He's one of those guys that always got the job done under any circumstances and never lost any sleep how he did it."

"Yeah, Hannibal and this guy mixed it up once in the Doom Club," B.A. said.

"Doom Club?" Mad Dog asked.

"Yeah, the Da Nang officers' open mess. I had a problem with the way this guy used to bomb Cong hospitals like it was his favorite sport," Hannibal explained.

Murdock saw Frankie slowly sink to the floor and inch away from the windows and over to the back of the garage. She stopped by the doors and seemed to be fidgeting nervously with her hair. The last thing they needed was for somebody to lose it now; he went over to her and crouched down by her to see what was the matter.

"You alright, Frankie?" he asked.

"That guy Decker's going to shoot up this place, isn't he?" Frankie asked.

"Either that or they'll break out the tear gas grenades," he answered, "Either way it's nothing we haven't dealt with before."

"So what do we do?" Frankie asked.

Hannibal tested the view in front of the windows and when nobody shot, he stood up, busted one of the front window panes and hollered out, "Hold your fire, Decker, we've got…" he almost said 'innocent civilians in here' but he knew that wouldn't faze Decker any. Not the Roderick Decker _he_ knew anyway. So he went with a second option that would probably strike the colonel as being a little more believable.

"We've got hostages in here, and if you or any of your men take one step closer to this building, we're going to blow them to Kingdom Come and then take out you and your joyboys as well."

There was a brief pause before Decker responded, "You're bluffing, Smith."

"Are you willing to take that chance, Decker?" Hannibal hollered back, "Are you willing to have innocent blood on your hands, _American citizen_ innocent blood?"

Murdock saw Frankie slip the back door open and run out, he ran after her and tackled her to the ground.

"What do you think you're doing?" he asked her.

"You guys need to get away, we need a distraction," Frankie said, "Hannibal can only hold them off for so long…" an idea hit her and she asked Murdock, "Do you guys keep a crowbar in the van?"

"Yes, of course," Murdock answered.

"Well go get it!" Frankie whispered loudly, "I'm going to try something."

Murdock didn't get it, but he was willing to go along with it and see what happened.

* * *

"Think about it, Decker," Hannibal called out to the window to the colonel who he momentarily had in his power and was enjoying every second of it because he knew it wouldn't last for long, "Lynch was made a laughing stock for getting military property stolen, crashed or blown up, and smashing up countless storefronts, but do _you_, Colonel Roderick Decker of the U.S. Army, _really_ want to be known as the man who let two innocent hostages die for his pursuit of the A-Team?"

"Let us see the hostages, Smith!" Decker said into his bullhorn.

Hannibal turned for a quick second and looked back to the window and said, "I think we can spare you a glimpse at one for the time being." He gestured towards B.A. who marched Mad Dog over to the window and Hannibal showed the young man off as best he could through the broken windowpane.

"Take a look at this face, Decker," Hannibal said, "Does this look like the face of somebody you want on your conscience? You never lost any sleep when you did whatever it took to get the job done back in Vietnam, but this is a different jungle now, you're in the concrete jungle, and the laws of _this_ jungle come with an actual price. You don't get to just brush these casualties off and collect your badges and smile for the camera."

Decker wasn't given a chance to answer, instead all heads turned when everybody heard a loud SMASH-ing noise behind them.

The MPs had parked their cars a small distance back from the building since apparently for all they knew, there were only the two front doors leading into the garage, and if the A-Team had chosen to make a break for it, futile though it may be, that would involve smashing directly into their cars. It was because of the short distance between the cars and the little green men driving them that Frankie was able to sneak up to some of the cars furthest back, and started playing baseball with the crowbar and their windshields.

"What the hell is she doing?" Hannibal asked as he looked out the window and saw what was going on.

Frankie made quick work and busted out the windshields and driver side windows of about five cars and managed to puncture a couple of tires and take out a couple of the lights on top before the MPs caught up with her, then she switched from batting at windows to batting at them, and they were a lot more vulnerable to being hit with a crowbar than the windshields were. Two of them went down, a couple others clutched whatever part of them had been beaten with the crowbar; Frankie moved fast, kept her head down and had also had the foresight to wear Murdock's cap and a set of dark glasses before she went out there. One MP grabbed her and she struggled in his grasp, shaking and writhing as hard as she could, it knocked the cap off, one MP tried to grab her by the hair, and he screamed and pulled back bloody hands. Frankie hit another MP in the gut with the crowbar, snatched up the cap and took off running, and made it back to the garage just before the MP could catch her. A split second later the van crashed out through the back wall of the garage and tore off down the back street.

* * *

"What the hell were you thinking!?" Face yelled at Frankie as they made their getaway at top speed, "Are you crazy!?"

Frankie sat as still as was possible with the van swerving from side to side as Murdock silently worked at collecting the bloody razor blades out of her hair as she answered nonchalantly, "_That_ is a very good possibility."

"You have to admit, it _was_ a good idea," Murdock said as he put the razor blades in a little bag and zipped it shut, "Whoever drives the cars that got smashed up will not be able to follow with the rest immediately. After all, when those windows got busted, the glass went everywhere, _including_ all over the front seat, so if they _had_ tried to follow us in those cars, they'd get their rear ends cut to ribbons in the process."

"A bit unorthodox perhaps but it did the trick," Hannibal said, and looking at Frankie in the rear view mirror he added in a warning tone, "But don't do it again."

Frankie just smiled and asked, "And what would Hannibal Smith know about orthodox?"

"Ha ha," he dryly remarked.

"Their own fault for parking their cars so far back, not exactly the best move in my opinion, but it worked," Frankie said.

"So now what do we do?" Face asked.

"There's one other place we should've checked before we left for the island," Hannibal told them.

"What's that?" Face already knew he was going to regret the answer.

"Masterson's house," Hannibal told them.

The gears in Murdock's head were already starting to turn.

Hannibal looked out the side mirror and said to the passengers in back, "Murdock, stay on the floor with them, remember nobody knows you're with us yet and we want to keep it that way."

"Aw, but Colonel," Murdock said as he got up.

Face pressed down on his head and pushed him back to the floor.

Murdock kicked the van floor with one foot and whined, "I'm getting tired of this, every time we go anywhere and the army comes sniffing around they make me hide, I'm tired of being this team's secret weapon, I want to be an exposed weapon."

Hannibal kept a deadpan expression and disposition as he said quietly, "Murdock, would you come up here for a minute, please?" It was the same tone adults used with a bad little child before beating him with a ruler. But this was completely missed on the captain's part.

Murdock poked his head up behind Hannibal's seat and said, "Yes, Colonel?"

Without turning around to see the captain, Hannibal said to him, "Murdock, do you remember the story about the Trojan horse?"

"Yeah sure, my mother told me about that one _long_ time ago," Murdock said.

"Well do you know why it's such a famous story?" Hannibal asked.

Murdock pondered it for a moment. From the peanut gallery on the floor Frankie volunteered, "Don't think on it too hard, you'll hurt your brain."

"Nice try but I work alone," Hannibal told her, he finally craned his neck back to see the captain and told him, "It worked because the soldiers were their own hidden weapon, you see? It wouldn't have worked near as well if the Greeks had just charged head on and let the Trojans see them coming, now would it?"

Murdock shook his head, "Don't guess so."

"That is why we rely on you to remain our hidden weapon," Hannibal said, "If the army should happen to catch the three of us, they won't be expecting _anyone_ to come to our rescue, now would they?"

"I guess not," Murdock said.

Hannibal reached behind him and patted Murdock on the head like a dog and replied, "Good boy, now, we're going to need you to help us with this next plan. _We_ are going to go check out Masterson's house and see if we can find anything there, but we need you to keep Frankie and Mad Dog out of sight of both him _and_ the military. If Face can get you a good alias, you can check yourselves into a hotel where nobody will think to look for you, how does that sound?"

"What happens if you get caught?" Murdock asked.

"We'll let you know," Hannibal assured him.

Mad Dog crawled over to Frankie on the floor and whispered to her, "I think we better keep a lookout for an opportunity to bail, we can't have these guys get caught on account of us."

Frankie watched the others and saw nobody had paid any attention to the two of them and she turned to Mad Dog and whispered in response, "Right, if it looks like the army's going to move in again we'll give ourselves up, they can't tie us in to the A-Team in any way, not unless that fool Lynch talked. If he didn't, there's not much they can do with us, but it'll buy the A-Team some time to get away."

Mad Dog nodded slightly and whispered in agreement, "Right."

"Worst thing that can happen is they send us back to the hospital," Frankie said, "At least this time we'll go back together."

* * *

"Now remember, Murdock," Hannibal told him when they stopped at a hotel, "Get a room with access to both the fire exit _and_ the elevator."

"I will," Murdock said, "Also, Colonel, I think it would be a good idea to get a room this time with two beds."

"Whatever you think, Murdock," Hannibal said, "If you haven't heard from us in two hours, try our mobile phone, if we're there, give us your room number and when we come in we'll see if the room next door's vacant and we'll hide out here for a while until we can get everything figured out."

"Alright," Murdock replied.

"And make sure you've got all of your things out of the van," Hannibal told him as he passed Murdock's bags to the pilot, "Now that Decker's on the case we don't want him finding _anything_ that ties you to us."

"Yes, Colonel," Murdock pouted.

"Oh but before we leave," Hannibal walked Murdock over towards the elevator and said quietly, "I wanted to get your professional opinion about something." He relayed how the visit at Frankie's parents' had gone and said to Murdock, "You know a little more about the human psyche than the rest of us, what's your take on it?"

"Well Colonel," Murdock said, "Psychiatry is still a new thing for a lot of people, especially child psychiatry, especially 10 years ago, few people knew about it and even fewer actually knew what they were doing. I'd say in Frankie's case she was taken to an inadequate specialist who was not trained in hard cases, of course that doesn't change the fact that Frankie never tried telling _anyone_ except her parents about what happened."

"And what's your opinion on that one?" Hannibal asked.

"She didn't tell anyone else because nobody else needed to be convinced, teachers, doctors, any of them, there wasn't anything any of them could do, ultimately it was her parents' responsibility to take care of the matter, and they failed. Also, from what you told me about _them_, it sounds like we're looking at something similar to Frankie and Mad Dog here. It sounds like the mother _wants_ to believe Frankie, but her father is dead set against the possibility that this could happen, and whatever the husband decides, the wife goes along with."

"It's like they're a split personality and the father is the dominant personality," Hannibal realized.

"Something like that, it's not uncommon, in Frankie's case she seems to have reversed the order, here _she_ is the dominant personality, clearly she decided she wasn't going to be anything like her mother. Unfortunately a lot of women will choose to believe their husbands over their children," Murdock told him.

Hannibal could put a few of those pieces together himself and he said, "But those are usually when it's the husband abusing the daughter, not the husband's friend."

"It's always hard to pick a side," Murdock said, "Add to the fact that children are notorious for not always telling the truth, it's understandable why some parents choose not to take their word."

"But that doesn't make it right."

"Of course it doesn't," Murdock replied, "Unfortunately it's just the way it is, and Frankie is well old enough to have figured out how it works."

"So," Hannibal wanted to know, "What would your prognosis be for any chance of her reconciling with them?"

"Anytime soon?" Murdock shook his head, "In 10 years…maybe. Or maybe she'll just write a tell-all book."

"When you're famous you write a tell-all book," Hannibal replied, "When you're poor and a nobody, you write a novel based on true events."

Murdock snorted and said, "You think they aren't going to be famous after this?"

Hannibal declined answering, he just told the captain, "Keep an eye on them, and if it you see any sign that the army's sniffing around, get those two and get out of here. We'll find a way to make contact later."

Murdock saluted, "Right. Oh, by the way, Colonel, I think you were right."

"About what?"

"I think we need to enforce keeping Mad Dog and Frankie separate when they sleep."

"Alright…but why? Why now?"

"Maybe one of them will talk in their sleep," Murdock told him, "I still think they're holding something back from us."

"Ah, you get that feeling too, eh?" Hannibal asked.

Murdock nodded. "I don't think it's intentional though, they've had nobody to talk to, or trust, for so long, they don't know how to be completely truthful anymore."

"Think they'll come out of it?" Hannibal asked.

"I'd still feel better about it if we could get Dr. Richter to see them," Murdock said.

Once Hannibal left the floor, Murdock picked up his bags and took them into the room he'd gotten for the three of them until further notice. He went over to the windows and drew the blinds and curtains so nobody could see in; despite B.A.'s affectionate nickname for him, he wasn't _fool_ enough to think that just because they were three flights up, that nobody could see in the windows.

"I think," he said to M.D. and Frankie in a more authoritative voice than he generally used, "It would be a good idea for you two to lie down and rest now, if the army comes we're going to have to make a run for it and if that happens there's no telling when any of us will be lying down again _not_ getting fitted for a pine box."

They started to get on the same bed but Murdock came up screaming incoherent noises like the buzzers in an electronic game and told them, "No, Frankie, you're on this bed, Mad Dog, you take the other."

"How come?" Frankie wanted to know.

"Because this time we're not all crammed into one bed and I'm for keeping it that way," Murdock said as he threw himself back on the other side of Frankie's bed and unzipped his duffel bag.

Frankie saw a side zipper had come undone and a book was sticking out of the slit. She pulled it out and saw it was an old weathered hardcover copy of Peter Pan; she flipped through the pages and looked at the pictures before Murdock cleared his throat and got her attention, in the process about causing her to hit the ceiling.

"Yours?" she asked.

"Yes," he answered as he snatched it back from her.

"I read it once," she said, "Very depressing in my opinion, I preferred the movie."

"Which one?" Murdock asked.

"The one on TV where you could see the wires, with that woman, Mary Martin," Frankie answered.

"The black and white one or the color one?" Murdock asked.

"Is there a difference?" she asked.

"Oh yes," he answered, "It was the same cast but it was 5 years apart."

"Oh…the color one," Frankie said.

"Now why," Murdock asked as he crossed his feet and opened his book to the middle, "Would you say this is depressing?"

"Well think about it," Frankie said, "There's nothing to eat, Michael doesn't even remember his home and thinks his sister has always been his mother, and in the end Tinkerbell obviously dies because she's not around anymore, and Peter can't even remember anything. What the hell kind of story is that?"

"Hmmm, I never thought about it like that," Murdock flipped through to the back of the book and let out a high pitched scream as he noticed several pages were missing, "That mudsucker, he's been eating the pages out of my book again!" he slammed it shut and clasped it to his chest and moaned, "Now how am I ever gonna know how it ends?"

Frankie looked to the other bed in the room and saw that Mad Dog had already fallen asleep. It sounded like a good idea to her too, but she only lay down and half closed her eyes, she was going to keep an eye on things for a while.

* * *

Frankie pretended to sleep for a while but she kept her ears sharp for any activity in the room or directly outside. She heard the door open and chanced a look and saw Murdock disappear out into the hall. She didn't know why he left, or what was going on, but she didn't hear any indication of a struggle, so she assumed that he was right outside and would be back in a moment. She closed her eyes for a few seconds and then heard a ding as the elevator stopped on their floor. She heard the elevator doors open, and heard someone step off and heard heavy footsteps coming up the hall to their room.

Frankie closed her eyes for a minute, but then heard the unmistakable sound of somebody breathing over her. Her eyes flew open and she saw Masterson hovering over her, his hands reaching for her neck. Frankie screamed and grabbed him first, one hand squeezing his, the other clawing into his neck as she brought her legs up and kicked him hard repeatedly in both sets of ribs. He was struggling, then Frankie heard people screaming, the voices were familiar, she opened her eyes again and saw that it wasn't Masterson she was attacking, it was Hannibal.

Immediately Frankie let go of him. The colonel took a step back from the bed and breathed heavily as one hand clutched his neck and the other on one set of his ribs. Frankie was in hysterics as she realized what she'd done and about bolted right off the bed but Face and Murdock held her down.

"What do we do with her now?"

"For one thing, get those shoes off of her feet," Hannibal said.

Hannibal grabbed one of the bags on the floor and grabbed a vial and syringe out of it. Frankie struggled on the bed and came close to tearing both the captain and lieutenant apart; when she saw Hannibal moving towards her again she fell flat back against the mattress and became quiet. Hannibal was his usual nonchalant self as he calmly explained to Frankie, "I'm going to give you a shot, it's a slow acting relaxant that's going to help you calm down, and go back to sleep, understand?"

Frankie nodded uncertainly. Hannibal had Face hold her wrist steady as he administered the shot; Frankie didn't scream but she curled her feet and tried digging them under the mattress.

"There," Hannibal said as he removed the needle and stepped back from the bed, "In a few minutes you won't be aware of anything."

Frankie twisted her arm to look at it and she asked Hannibal, "Is this going to be permanent?"

"No, in a couple weeks you won't even be able to see it, the only injection marks that are permanent are for smallpox, and unless you're enlisted, they don't give those anymore," he told her.

"Or if you're a junkie," Frankie replied, "They don't call them track marks for nothing."

Hannibal turned to the others and gestured for them to leave the room, all except Murdock, he suggested the captain stay and keep an eye on her incase anything happened. As they stepped out into the hall, Face and B.A. noticed Hannibal clutching his ribs.

"Are you alright, Hannibal?" Face asked.

"Oh yeah, just a few bruised ribs is all," he answered. He turned to Mad Dog and said, "Tell me something, _why_ has Frankie been terrorized of this man Masterson her whole life? Why didn't she ever give _him_ that kind of treatment? That way all your problems would be over long before now."

"Did you find anything when you searched his house?" Mad Dog asked.

"Oh yeah, we found something," Hannibal said, "A whole bunch of pictures."

"Of Frankie?"

"Frankie, and about a dozen other girls when they were all the same age about 10 years ago," Hannibal told him, "There's no doubt about it, this guy's a certifiable whack job."

"And busy too," Face added.

"What I don't get," Hannibal said, "Is I always thought creeps like this lost interest in their victims when they got older and grew up."

"Well then you _don't_ know Masterson," Mad Dog told him.

"I guess not," Hannibal replied, "Frankie seems to be his pet project, I guess she's the only one on this guy's list that he hasn't been able to get to yet."

"And that's gotta just be driving him crazy," Face added.

"Speaking of Murdock," Hannibal said, "We better make sure Frankie didn't kill him and bury him under the mattress…me and my big mouth."

"What do you mean, Hannibal?" Face asked.

"I wanted a reaction from Frankie, I sure as hell got one," he said.

* * *

"I didn't mean to attack Hannibal," Frankie continued to try telling Murdock, something she hadn't quit doing since the two had been left alone in the room.

"I know that, Frankie," he told her.

Murdock had spent their time alone trying to get Frankie comfortable since he knew when the full effect of that shot hit her, she would be out cold for a while. He'd helped her change into a set of his pajamas and had gotten her tucked into bed and dug through his bag until he found what he was looking for, a new teddy bear he'd gotten back at the island gift shop. He had planned to bring it home to his teddy bear at the V.A. so he wouldn't be lonely when Murdock had to leave on missions.

"I didn't know it was him," Frankie said.

"Hannibal knows that, it wasn't your fault," Murdock assured her as he came back over to her.

Frankie managed to open her eyes wider and she saw the teddy bear that had been placed on the bed by her and she looked down at the pajama shirt she was wearing with cartoon characters on it and she looked back up, not at him but instead staring straight ahead with a sour look on her face and she said, "This is demeaning."

"De meaning of what?" Murdock asked with a small laugh.

Frankie's eyes were at half mast again and Murdock could tell she wouldn't last much longer. In his opinion they could've saved some time if he'd brought a pair of pajamas with a T-shirt instead of one to button up.

"Be sure and tell Hannibal that I'm sorry for what happened, tell him I didn't mean to try and kill him," Frankie said.

"I know you didn't, kid," Hannibal said as he loomed over the headboard of the bed and looked down at her, "Just go on to sleep."

Frankie went with little resistance.

"So now what do we do?" Face asked, "What happens if Decker catches us now?"

"We have two options," Hannibal said, "Either we go on ahead, and leave Frankie and Mad Dog here, since the army isn't looking for them, or we take our chances and clear everybody out when we have to."

"Isn't there a third option?" Face asked, "Can't we just pack them back up in the van and get moving now? Frankie will sleep through the trip anyway."

Hannibal shook his head, "We all had a long flight and we're all exhausted, it'll do us all some good to get some rest before we take off again, and to where? Decker knows where we all live and we don't have a whole lot of friends that we can rely on to help us hide out until things cool down. We're as well off here as anyplace for the time being. We'll take turns watching from the windows to make sure we don't get ambushed but it's going to do all of us a world of good to get some sleep before we do anything else."

Mad Dog moved over towards the bed and he pointed to the unoccupied side and said, "I'll stay here with Frankie."

"No you won't," Hannibal told him, "If Frankie has another nightmare like that, you are not equipped to deal with her reactions, we all have experience in that field. Murdock, you'll take this bed, and Face, you and Mad Dog take the other."

"Do I have to?" Face whined.

"Yes!" B.A. told him.

"Just asking," Face quietly replied.


	21. Chapter 21

"Hey Hannibal, I have a question," Face said as they switched guard posts late that afternoon, "_Why_ did you tell Decker that we had hostages with us back at the garage?"

Hannibal sighed in relief as his head touched the pillows under him and answered, "Why not? The Army likes to spread stories about us doing things like that, terrorizing orphanages and all that, so let them believe their own propaganda, it can't hurt us either way anymore than everything else has, and besides, we chanced having a bargaining chip with Decker that way."

"You wouldn't really hand them over to him, would you?" Face asked.

"Of course not, but Decker didn't know that," Hannibal answered.

"I see," Face dryly remarked.

They both turned their attention to sounds coming from the room next door.

"See if you can make out what they're saying," Hannibal told Face.

The lieutenant went over to the wall and tried listening in, "Eh, no good, the wall's too thick."

"No matter, I'm sure whatever it is we can get a report from Murdock," Hannibal said.

* * *

Frankie had woken up from her drug induced slumber and was still slightly out of it, but she was enough 'all there' to speak coherently to Murdock, well, coherently enough that he could make sense of it.

"I know you're not supposed to hate your parents, even the Bible says that," she said.

"Well," Murdock replied, "Hate and honor have never specifically been excluded from one another."

Frankie laughed nervously and said, "It always makes you sound better if you can say something like, you _resent_ your parents but you don't hate them, or you don't hate _them_, only the things they do or the things they become…but it all comes down to the same thing, you hate your parents." She reached her arm out from under the sheets and held it out beside the bed as if she was signaling for silence. "When you see psychiatrists they want to hear every awful thing your mother ever did. All psychiatrists hate mothers and therefore want all their patients to hate their own mothers, why that is I don't know. It never occurs to those shrinks that fathers deserve much of the blame as well, even more-so than the mothers. I hate them both, Murdock, but most of all I hate my father, and I guess I always have."

Murdock shoved his hands deep in his jacket pockets and asked her, "What do you mean, Frankie cous?"

She looked up at him and said, "I know I'm warped, I can admit it, I know I've never had a good relationship with my father, and I _do_ place the blame with him. As a kid you're not supposed to hate your father, and you _don't_, no matter how horrible he is, you _don't_ hate him and in fact it never even _occurs_ to you to hate him, because you don't know any better. Then you get a little older and a little smarter and start putting the pieces together. I'm sure a lot of people _don't_ have good relationships with their fathers, but how many of them go through the first half of their life before it _finally_ dawns on them that it _is_ possible for _other_ kids to get along with their fathers? Even as a kid I knew better, or thought I did."

"Watcha talking about, cous?" Murdock asked as he sat down on the edge of the bed beside her.

"I didn't know enough as a kid to _hate_ my father, but I knew something was wrong. You see all the time on TV those stupid commercials for _whatever_ is being advertised, has all these happy smiling people on them, and they _love_ using families, and they love to be open minded and show there are all types of families, here's a nuclear family with both parents and two kids, here's two kids with one mother, two more with one father…here's a boy with his mother, they get along great, and _here_, here's a father and his young daughter and they're getting along _so_ well together, the father is actually being _nice_ to his daughter, he's not yelling at her, or throwing things, or scaring her to tears, none of that…even as a kid I knew in my mind that that wasn't real, fathers aren't nice, they're not nice to _any_ of their kids but they're _especially_ not nice to their daughters. You know how long it finally took me to realize it's not _all_ fathers, it's _my_ father who is the problem?"

Murdock was starting to put the pieces together in what she was trying to say, but now he was the one at a loss for words. "Frankie, I…"

"Oh I _know_ that all parents, no matter how lousy they are, they all have that 'unconditional love' people love to throw around, but what's that got to do with how they treat you? No matter what their intentions are, it's their actions that speak for them, and anytime my father _did_ something, he always did it wrong. Of course good luck telling him that," she shook her head, "No thanks, I've been yelled at enough times in my life I should've been in military school."

It seemed that Frankie wasn't trying to go particularly anywhere with this, just wanted to get it all out into the open, and she told Murdock, "If it wasn't for everything else, maybe this whole ordeal with Masterson wouldn't hurt me so much…but my father…" her voice was liquid fire now and her eyes were starting to light up as well as they slanted halfway closed, "If he had ever bothered to know me at all, maybe none of this would have had to happen. But tell me, Murdock, how can you have a kid and never try to figure out what's going on with them? Years pass and it never occurs to you to ask what they like, what they don't, what they think…I think they had it right in that James Dean movie, you know? Nobody _talks_ to kids, they only _tell_ them."

"What about your mother?" Murdock asked.

"Her…" Frankie said still with venom in her throat, but the fire seemed to die out, she shrugged her shoulders and said, "It's harder to hate your mother, mothers are the only parents worth caring about, they're the only ones who ever do _anything_ right. She tried at least, she had _some_ idea of what made me tick, she wasn't completely clueless like my father."

"But?" Murdock asked, knowing there was one.

"But in the end when it came time to make a choice as to whether she believed me or him, she picked her husband _of course_," Frankie answered, "Isn't that always the case, they _always_ do." She turned to him and said, "Parents always love to throw out that line of they're not _mad_ at you, they're _disappointed_ in you, that's supposed to hurt more I suppose…funny, nobody ever cares if the children are _disappointed_ in the parents, but I certainly am with her."

Murdock reached over and patted her back sympathetically and quietly murmured, "I'm sorry, Frankie."

She looked down at the bedspread and said quietly, "I always wondered how parents could hate their own children…fathers are easy, they hate everything, but how could a mother hate her own kid?" She looked up at the ceiling and lay back against the pillows and said, "You think being dead makes things any easier?"

Murdock felt his blood run cold all the way down his spine, "Why would you say a thing like that?"

"Masterson's no fool, he's killed before and he will again, next time it just _might_ be me, might be all for the best anyway," Frankie said, not wanting to give voice to what was _really_ going through her mind. In her head she was seeing a hundred men in green with guns pointed at her and pulling the triggers. "I won't be a suicide, that much is for certain."

Murdock felt his heart blocking his throat, he didn't know what was going through Frankie's mind but he knew that until he could make a breakthrough in that department, they couldn't chance leaving her alone. He lightly grabbed her arm and suggested, "Why don't you go on back to sleep and get some rest?"

Frankie nodded weakly and slumped back against the pillows and closed her eyes.

* * *

MPs had shown up and stormed the hotel, everybody had gotten out _just_ in time but they made their getaway on foot with the army police shooting at them. Hannibal told them to split up, and Murdock and Frankie broke off from the rest and put a considerable distance between themselves and everyone else. In the process however, Murdock let out a yelp and stumbled, but kept on his feet and managed to keep running. He grabbed Frankie by the arm and pulled her along with him. Frankie chanced turning to look at him and noticed a dark stain on the front of his T-shirt, he'd been shot! But he wouldn't stop running and for the time being he didn't seem to even acknowledge his injury.

"Where're we going?" Frankie asked him.

"It's getting dark, we need to find cover, someplace they can't find us," he told her.

By the time they finally stopped running it _was_ dark, Murdock had found an abandoned building that looked like it could've been a storage building but it was built more like a condemned shack of 2 by 4s. The door was unlocked so they went in, he closed the door behind them and looked around using what little light there was from the moon outside.

"Will the others be able to find us?" Frankie asked.

"Sure they will," Murdock said as he looked around and found a pile of boards and some drop cloth sheets, along with a variety of other old junk.

"What if they don't?" Frankie asked him.

"They will, Hannibal never leaves a man behind," Murdock told her.

"You've been hit," Frankie said.

"Ah it's not so bad," Murdock insisted, "I just feel like I got a finger poking me in the back…er…did I get it in the back or the front?"

"Murdock," Frankie started to say.

"Frankie, relax, trust me, Hannibal will find the place soon, don't worry," he said.

"What do we do in the meantime?" she asked, trying desperately not to lose it.

"I found a place we can lie down, we can rest, and so long as we're quiet, nobody else will find us," he told her.

"Then how will Hannibal find us?" Frankie asked.

"The Colonel has his ways, don't worry," Murdock said as he led her over to a cleared spot on the floor, he helped her down and he laid down beside her. He covered them with one of the drop cloths and added, "Just take it easy, Frankie, everything's going to be alright."

"What about your shoulder?" Frankie asked as she turned her head back to see him, "You're losing a lot of blood."

"Eh, it's nothing," he said, "Just take it easy and try to get some rest. The others will be along before too long."

Frankie listened to his breathing and felt him lean into her as he succumbed to unconsciousness himself. She watched through the windows and waited for any sign that somebody was coming. As the night drew on she felt her back becoming increasingly wet from Murdock's blood seeping on her.

Hannibal and the others did come, but they didn't come until the next morning. They found the building and kicked the door opened and entered. They heard before they saw, and what they heard was Frankie's soft crying from on the floor. Everybody took a few steps into the building and stopped as they saw Frankie and Murdock lying on the floor; Murdock was unconscious and unresponsive, Frankie was awake and looked like she was desperately trying to get out from under him. Hannibal and Face ran over and pulled Murdock off of her, there was a horrible tearing sound as they were separated, and they realized _why_ Frankie was crying, the whole back of her shirt was coated in Murdock's blood that was half wet and half congealed.

* * *

Murdock felt something warm and wet touching his cheek and he realized with personal disgust that he had drooled all over his pillow _and_ himself in his sleep. He grimaced in his sleep and debated whether to just wipe it off with his hand or to turn over his pillow for the dry side. Then he realized that something was wrong because his pillow had shoulder blades. He opened his eyes and realized that in his sleep he'd pinned Frankie against the bed and he'd been using her as a pillow and had drooled all over the back of the shirt she was wearing. No wonder she was groaning and moaning so much. As he continued to wake up, and pulled himself up off of her and wiped his mouth with the palm of his hand, he realized Frankie was talking in her sleep, mumbling something hysterically.

"Blood, blood, the blood," that was all she said, over, and over, and over, in a frantic, desperate voice.

"Frankie," Murdock pressed his hands down on her and shook her, "Come on, Frankie cous, wake up, you're having a nightmare."

It took a couple of tries but he managed to wake her up and when she realized where they were and what had happened, or rather what had _not_ happened, she burst into tears and cried in horror of the dream and relief that it had just been a dream. Murdock put his arms around her and held her close and let her wear herself out. The noise got attention from the occupants in the next room and Murdock heard the door open and saw Hannibal standing in the doorway with an inquisitive and concerned look on his face. Murdock kept one arm around Frankie and with the other hand shooed the colonel off; Hannibal didn't look convinced but he slipped out the door and quietly closed it.

After a while, Murdock finally got Frankie to calm down, despite her better judgment she fell back asleep, giving Murdock the opportunity to go next door and speak to the others. He suggested that Mad Dog go and stay with Frankie, and once he left the room, the others had the ground to speak freely.

"What the hell was that about?" Hannibal asked.

"Well, I'm not exactly sure, but it _did_ give me an idea," Murdock said.

"What's that?"

"I don't think that in Frankie's subconscious she was really thinking about any of us taking any lead…she kept going on about the blood, the blood, what blood?"

Face chewed on the question for a minute and said, "What about when the prosecutor trying Mad Dog's case got shot? I mean she always seemed pretty neutral to that but _how_ can you be neutral to having a guy's insides splattered all over you when you're talking to him standing six inches from him when he gets hit?"

"I don't know," Murdock said, "But I want to try something. If we can get Dr. Richter on the phone, I want to try taking Mad Dog back to the night of the murder, maybe I can tap into his subconscious and find a repressed memory, he's _got_ to know more than he's telling us but he can't consciously remember it."

"You're gonna try hypnotizing him?" Face asked, "Murdock, you couldn't even make B.A. think he was a chicken."

"That's different, Faceman," Murdock insisted, "B.A. has never been a chicken…" he glanced over to the sergeant and added, "A big crybaby maybe, but not a chicken." He took a step towards the colonel where it was safe from the sergeant's fury and continued, "Anyway, making B.A. believe he was a chicken would be making him believe something that had never happened, but in this case, I'm going to take Mad Dog back to something that actually did happen and that he was present for, he's going to remember what actually happened that night and tell us what he saw."

"You think it'll work?" Hannibal asked.

"If I can get Dr. Richter to help I'm sure we can pull it off," Murdock said.

"Only problem is we can't risk calling him, the army could have his phone bugged," Face said.

"Why would they?" Hannibal replied, "Murdock's a mental patient, he's not competent under law so he's no threat to anybody, and also can't _possibly_ have any ties to us, right? So why _would_ they be interested in hearing Dr. Richter talk to his crazy patients?"

Murdock's eyes lit up and he asked, "So then can we try it, Colonel?"

"Why not?" Hannibal replied, "Maybe now we'll finally get some answers around here."

* * *

"Hypnotizing somebody over the phone, just when I thought I'd seen everything," Face commented as they stood back and quietly watched Murdock while he worked.

"Shhh," Hannibal told him.

After talking with Dr. Richter over the phone and having him talk to M.D. briefly and then Murdock talked to him again, something happened and changed with the young man. He lay down on the bed and his eyes were closed and he almost looked asleep. Murdock stood by the bed speaking softly to the boy as he tried subconsciously taking Murdoch back in time.

"Mad Dog, it is now three years ago, you are 22 years old, and today is Frankie's 17th birthday, do you remember?" Murdock asked.

He was silent for a few seconds, his chest rising and falling slowly and evenly as if he was actually asleep, then he answered, "Yes…I remember."

"What do you remember?" Murdock asked.

Slowly, M.D. explained as he recollected, "Frankie came over that afternoon, we picked up a cake from the bakery and took it back to the house. We went out for dinner to get a pizza. We were at the pizzeria, and…"

"What happened?" Murdock asked.

"Frankie jerked around in her chair, she said that Masterson was there, that he followed us to the restaurant. I look, but I don't see him. She says I don't believe her."

"Do you?" Murdock asked him.

"I think Masterson has terrorized her to the point that she's traumatized…paranoid, lately she just sees him everywhere. A few minutes later, they bring out our pizza."

Murdock watched the changed look on Mad Dog's face and asked, "Was something wrong with it?"

"It tasted different, Frankie noticed it too, she thought someone put lettuce or onion in it, but we didn't want to make trouble so we ate it anyway. Then we went home. We cut the cake, ate part of it, and then…"

That's where the memory gap always sank in, Murdock leaned in closer to him and asked, "What's the next thing you remember?"

Mad Dog took in a deep breath and answered, "I'm in bed, I don't remember how I got there, but I'm there now, and there's someone in the room with me. I get up," he jerked like he was being pulled out of bed, "And I go downstairs…it's quiet, I know it's still night."

"Do you see anything at this time?" Murdock asked.

"No, I still feel half asleep, it seems like a dream. M-my feet are cold, I'm on the tile floor in the hallway, and now I feel the carpeting under me, I'm going into the living room."

"On your own?" Murdock asked.

"I feel someone holding onto my arm," M.D. reached his right arm over and grasped his left arm right under the elbow, "I feel a shove…and I go down. I open my eyes and I see a woman lying on the floor, she's got dark stains all over her, they're blood…bloodstains. I see something in my hand…it's a knife, and it's covered in blood." His voice was more frantic now, his chest was heaving up and down as his breathing became more rapid and harder, "Frankie…Frankie's upstairs…gotta find her…don't know what happened."

"Murdock, can't you bring him out of it?" Hannibal asked, "He's about to lose it totally."

"Yeah I know," Murdock said, he grabbed two handfuls of Mad Dog's shirt and said to him, "Alright, M.D., it's now 3 years later again, you're 25 years old, and you're in a hotel in Los Angeles, with Frankie and the four members of the A-Team, wake up!"

Mad Dog's eyes flew open and he shot up on the bed, his chest heaving even heavier than before, he covered his mouth with one balled up hand as he neared hyperventilation. Murdock leaned down and patted him on the back and said, "Take it easy, M.D., it's over now."

"Murdock," Hannibal spoke up, "Maybe you better take him into the bathroom."

"Good idea," Murdock helped the shaken young man to his feet and escorted him into the next room and closed the door behind them.

"I can't believe it," Face said, "He actually did it." He looked from Hannibal to B.A. and said again, "He actually did it! Murdock was actually able to hypnotize him."

B.A. scowled at that thought and responded, "Fool did _something_ alright, but how do we know he's telling the truth?"

"You have doubts, B.A.?" Hannibal asked.

"I ain't saying that that sucker Masterson didn't do anything, Hannibal, I just don't know."

"Well," Hannibal said, "I believe it. For one thing, Mad Dog didn't tell us anything now that wouldn't have saved us all a lot of time and trouble in the beginning, if he was making any of it up, he wouldn't have waited until now to disclose it. For another, what Mad Dog just said gives us Masterson."

"Or _somebody_," Face replied, "He never saw the person who got him out of bed."

"Who else could it possibly be?" Hannibal asked.

"The problem is all that just happened here was he said the same thing that Frankie did when she put the pieces together about what happened between when they went to sleep, and when Mad Dog woke her up."

"Maybe Murdock needs to try hypnotizing Frankie too," Hannibal thought, "Frankie said when she woke up, Murdoch told her 'there's a woman downstairs, I think I killed her'."

"So?" Face asked.

"So," Hannibal replied as he let out a huff and reached one hand behind to feel the back of his head, "When Mad Dog was recollecting what happened, he didn't know that he had blood on him, and he didn't think that he had killed the woman."

"Well…mix being drugged with being in shock, I guess that's understandable," Face said.

* * *

"Murdock," Frankie came running into the room once Hannibal, Face and B.A. had left and it was just the two of them, "Murdock, I gotta talk to you."

"Sure thing, cous, what about?" Murdock asked.

"Hannibal and the others went to Masterson's house, didn't they?" she asked.

"Yeah."

"What'd they find?"

"Pictures," Murdock answered.

"Of what?"

"Of you, and other girls," he told her hesitantly.

"Anything else?" Frankie asked.

"I don't think so, why?"

Frankie's eyes glanced towards the door as if to make sure they weren't interrupted, she looked back to Murdock and said, "He doesn't know."

"Who doesn't know what?" Murdock asked.

"Hannibal…now he _guessed_ that Masterson had a second blade he used when he killed Alice Arden, one that he actually killed her with and a second he left behind to frame Mad Dog with. But I never told _him_ about the cake server missing that night. And now they've gone to Masterson's house, turned it upside down, and found nothing. If he _did_ use a second knife, then he kept it as a trophy, didn't he? But they didn't find one, they didn't find _anything_."

Murdock scratched his head as he thought about it and said, "Could be hidden in plain sight. If he cleaned it and put it in the utensil drawer, nobody would know any different."

"Would he though?" Frankie asked, "You take a trophy from a killing, why would you clean it?"

"So you don't get caught," Murdock answered.

"Then why take a trophy at all?" she replied.

He shrugged and guessed, "_Something_ to remember it by is better than nothing at all I suppose."

"Without that server, there's nothing that can tie him to the murder," Frankie said, "And your guys are thorough, they had to have been all over that house, and found nothing."

"Well why don't you tell Hannibal about it?" Murdock asked.

"I can't," Frankie told him, "Don't ask me why, I can't tell him."

Murdock didn't get it, "Why not?"

"I told _you_," Frankie said, "You could've told him at any time but you didn't, why?"

Murdock shrugged helplessly and replied, "I don't know."

"Well this is a fine mess we're in," Frankie noted as she leaned back against the wall and sank down to the floor, "Both of us knows something that may be vital to the case but neither one of us is willing to tell your big bad leader about it. What about Mad Dog? Did you manage to get anything out of him?"

"He confirms pretty much what you told us," Murdock told her, "He never saw Masterson but he knows somebody was in that house with him, somebody who disappeared as soon as he became lucid enough to see."

"Masterson always _did_ know just when to take off and make himself look inconspicuous," Frankie nodded slowly. She looked up at Murdock as he paced over to the window and she asked him, "So now what do we do?"

Murdock pulled back the curtain and checked down below to make sure the Army hadn't found them yet. "Right now we gotta wait."

Frankie rose to her feet and slowly walked up behind him and looked out the window and asked him, "For what?"


	22. Chapter 22

"I don't know about this, Hannibal," Face told the colonel, "Ever since Murdock tried hypnotizing Mad Dog, he just seems to be worse."

"Ah, you noticed that too, eh?" Hannibal asked.

"Frankie was bad enough, there's no way we can be moving around with two grown sized kids tagging along, especially in the condition they're both in now."

"I know, but what choice do we have?" Hannibal replied.

"Can't we leave them somewhere where they won't get in _our_ way and we don't have to worry about _them_ running around the city by themselves?"

"Where would you suggest, Lieutenant?" Hannibal asked, "As few resources as _we_ have to fall back on to hide ourselves when the opportunity arises, I can think of even fewer who would even be willing to take Frankie and Murdoch for us, let alone equipped to deal with them. No, they'll have to stay with us, there's just no choice right now."

"Well I don't like it," Face said, "Mad Dog's just gotten worse, ever since he woke up he's scared of his own damn shadow now. Any little thing and he jumps."

"I know," Hannibal said, "Ought to make sleeping tonight a _lot_ of fun."

Face did a double take and just about lost it, "Oh now wait a minute, don't tell me _I_ have to have him in my bed again."

"I don't care whose _bed_ he's in tonight, Lieutenant," Hannibal told him, "But to answer, _no_, you should be relieved to know that Murdock's offered to take him for the night."

"He's a glutton for punishment, isn't he?" Face asked.

Hannibal managed a flat laugh before explaining, "I must be too because I'm going to have Frankie bunking with me tonight."

"What? Why?" Face asked.

"Murdock insisted on it, he thinks that it's going to lead to a breakthrough."

"How?"

"Because out of the four of us here I'm the only one truly capable of coming off as a father figure, and Murdock figures that right now that's something she needs, since her own father was never any help he figured close contact to a reasonable facsimile would benefit her now," Hannibal explained, though it was obvious he wasn't entirely convinced of it either.

"Uh…Hannibal, are you sure that's a good idea?" Face asked.

"What's the matter, Face?" Hannibal managed a small smirk as he asked, "You think I won't be able to control myself?"

"What if she doesn't think so?" Face pointed out, "You're old enough to be her father, you're also old enough to be Masterson."

"Hmmmm, hadn't thought of that," Hannibal responded in his usual cynical tone, though Face could tell he was being truthful.

"So what do we do?" Face asked.

"We go ahead with the plan and deal with whatever happens _when_ it happens," Hannibal answered, "Who knows? Maybe Murdock's right."

Face scratched the back of his head and commented, "It sure is scary when you think about it, how often we rely on a guy who talks to sock puppets and invisible animals, to be right about something."

"Yep, but that's what makes it interesting," Hannibal replied.

* * *

"Alright, Frankie," Hannibal said once he had the young woman alone in his room with him, "If Masterson still enjoys playing with knives, then I think I need to teach you a few basic combat moves that'll help if he finds out you're back in town and comes at you."

"You're wasting your time, Hannibal," Frankie told him as she folded her arms loosely, "Murdock already tried teaching me that stuff, it didn't work, I can't remember any of it."

"No, he only taught you basic unarmed combat, this is defense against a knife attack, believe me it works," Hannibal replied.

Frankie shrugged her shoulders and asked, "Well, what've I got to lose?" She snorted and added, "This far in the game, I got nothing left _to_ lose. Alright, how do we do this?"

"For one thing, get over here," Hannibal told her. He picked up a magazine Murdock had left on the bed and rolled it up tightly, he handed it to Frankie and told her, "Take this, keep a tight hold on it just like this."

"Hannibal," Frankie said in a half-cynical tone as she did what he said, "Are you teaching me combat defense or how to swat flies?"

"Very funny," he said as he took a knife out of his bag, "Now, this is just a prop from the movie studio, but it'll serve its purpose here. I'm going to be Masterson coming at you, and you are going to fight me off, just as I tell you." He held his other hand up to get her attention and told her, "Now, there are three basic ways to hold a knife that determine _how_ your attacker is going to come at you." He gripped the handle in his hand and held his arm straight out with the knife underhanded and slanted _slightly_ downward, "The slash," he adjusted his grip and raised his arm up with the blade aimed down, "The plunge," he held the knife underhanded with the blade aimed up and finished, "And the thrust."

"So how do you think he killed Alice Arden?" Frankie asked.

"That I'm not sure about," Hannibal said, "But for this demonstration, I'm going to be coming at you," he raised his arm high and said, "And I'm going to go straight for the plunge. You raise your hand you're holding the magazine with and block the attack."

"How?" Frankie asked.

"Keep a grip on that magazine and hit my wrist with it," Hannibal told her, "Ready? Go."

He advanced towards her moving in for the kill, Frankie jerked her arm up and blocked his wrist with the magazine, "Now," he told her, "We're going to try this again and this time I'm going to slash you." They drew back from each other, and he came at her again, this time with his arm low and the knife straight out, Frankie maintained her grip on the magazine and this time brought it down on top of Hannibal's wrist. They halfheartedly struggled with each other for a few seconds before Hannibal said, "Alright, you blocked his initial attack, now what do you do?"

Frankie thought about it for a couple of seconds, then, almost quicker than Hannibal could spot, she sidestepped behind him, hooked the magazine against his throat with her right hand holding it by his left side then hooked her left hand over and grabbed the right side of the magazine and tightened her hold between the magazine and the colonel's neck.

"Very good," he croaked out, and then took one quick moved to the side and threw her over his shoulder and onto the bed. He turned around, rubbing his Adam's apple and asked her, "Where'd you learn that move?"

Frankie shrugged and said, "I've seen a few movies."

"Well, it was a good idea," he told her, "But that is _not_ what you do with somebody pulling a knife on you."

"It isn't?" Frankie asked.

"No, you were close, but that is what you do if _you_ come up _behind_ somebody attacking someone else and they're both on the ground."

"I see," she replied.

"But do keep that in mind," Hannibal told her, "There's nothing saying that Masterson won't attack Mad Dog _or_ someone else he comes across."

"Right," Frankie said as she got up.

"As a matter of fact," Hannibal turned and went to the door, went out into the hall and came back a minute later with Mad Dog behind him, "We're going to try that."

"Try what?" they both asked.

Hannibal glanced back at Mad Dog and then to Frankie and said, "I'm going to teach you a few other moves we learned in combat, coming to the rescue of a third party."

"You think that'll do any good?" Mad Dog asked.

"As we used to say in the Scouts…" Hannibal started to say, but was abruptly cut off.

"You was never in the Scouts," Frankie said.

Hannibal turned on his heel and asked her, "And how would you know that?"

"Come on, Hannibal, you would _never_ make it in the Boy Scouts and you know it," she said, "You fight too dirty to be a Scout."

Hannibal shrugged and said, "Well, can't blame me for trying, but the point is all the same, it's better to be prepared because you never know when it's going to come in handy."

* * *

"I trust Murdock has informed you about the sleeping arrangements tonight," Hannibal told Frankie later in the night when Mad Dog had gone back to join Face and the others next door again.

Frankie looked out the window at the street down below and answered, "Yeah he told me. I don't like it."

"Well that's fine," Hannibal said, "Nobody said you had to."

Frankie looked up and down the street as well as she could from the closed window and asked him, "What happens if Decker comes here during the night?"

"He won't," Hannibal answered.

She stepped away from the window and asked, "But what if he does?"

"He won't."

"But what if he does?" Frankie asked again.

"_If_ he does," Hannibal finally said, "We'll clear out of here, Mad Dog's going to stay with Murdock tonight, Face and B.A. are going to alternate keeping watch, and if there's any sign of trouble we're going to bail, so don't worry about it."

"I can't help it, it's what I do best," Frankie told him.

"You need a new hobby, kid," Hannibal said.

"If I ever get my life back, I will," she said.

"It's late," Hannibal observed, "Why don't you get into bed?"

Frankie gritted her teeth and asked him, "Is there anything I ought to know before getting into bed with you?"

"Like what?" he asked.

"Do you snore?"

"A little," he answered.

"You stick your feet into the other side of the bed?"

"Only if they're cold," He said with a coy smirk.

"You a cover hog?" Frankie asked.

"No."

"Good, I am," she told him as she returned the smirk, "And I warn _you_, Colonel Smith, if I feel one cold foot on my side of the bed, _I_ kick in my sleep."

"I'll remember that," He responded.

* * *

Face felt sure that somebody had it in for him; he thought he'd caught a break when Hannibal told him Mad Dog would be spending the night with Murdock. Never once had it occurred to the lieutenant that this meant _he_ was stuck bunking with B.A. for the night. It wasn't anything new for him, they'd all traded off on sleeping arrangements over the years, but it never got any easier to put up with. It was bad enough B.A. took up most of the covers when he was asleep, but then there was always the problem of hoping he didn't roll over on you in his sleep. And Face, being among the lightest on the Team, was constantly reminded of this little fact given that if it happened, there was no way in hell he could push the sergeant off of him. Perhaps that was the reason why he wasn't getting any sleep tonight, that is on top of the fact that it was his watch for any army personnel. No matter, he didn't need to be standing by the window for that, as long as he was awake he could keep an ear open for any cars coming up towards the hotel. Of course it didn't help his inability to sleep that the sound of B.A.'s snoring could wake up people all the way over in Cleveland. But for some reason, Face got the feeling he wasn't the only one losing sleep tonight.

He held his breath and listened, directly into his right ear was B.A.'s buzz saw snoring, but over on the other side of the room was the even breathing of _one_ person, another person couldn't be heard which meant he was still awake and controlling how evened out his breathing was. Face pulled himself up to a sitting position and looked over, and saw Mad Dog turned on his side with his back to Face's view, but Murdock was flat on his back looking up at the ceiling and twisting his ball cap in his hands.

"Murdock?" he whispered as he slipped out of the bed and went over to the other one, "You alright, Murdock?"

Murdock didn't seem surprised that Face was awake, or if he was he didn't show it, he just answered nonchalantly, "Yeah Faceman, just thinking."

"What about?" Face asked.

Murdock pried the fingers from one hand off his cap and fit the tip of his thumb and his index finger into his mouth and bit down on them as he answered, still gazing up to the ceiling, "Peter Pan."

"What about it?" Face asked.

"Well, I was trying to read it earlier but the back pages are gone so I can't find out how it ends," Murdock told him.

Face sighed and hung his head low, never mind the fact that Murdock must've read that book a thousand times between when he was a kid and now, for some reason that fact never registered with the pilot, "Don't tell me, B.A.'s been eating your books again?"

"Well that doesn't matter right now," Murdock said, "I've been thinking about something else."

"What?" Face felt sure whatever it was was worth dreading already.

"Decker."

"And…there's a connection in the two?" Face asked.

"Yeah, maybe," Murdock said, finally turning his eyes to look at the lieutenant hovering to his side, "I've been trying to think of a way that we could…well, I mean…you remember the part where Peter Pan convinces the pirates that _he_ is Captain Hook, and that the _real_ Captain Hook is a codfish?"

Face nodded and quickly caught on, "You mean try something like that?"

"Well sort of," Murdock sat up and explained, "What if we could figure a way to tap into the radios on all the MPs cars, and convince them that Decker was ordering them to turn around and head somewhere _away_ from us? Just think how useful something like that would be."

"Yeah but how would you pull it off?" Face asked, "_Especially_ to do it and make sure the _real_ Decker didn't find out?"

"That's the only part I haven't figured out yet," Murdock told him.

Face laughed quietly and said, humoring the pilot, "Alright, Murdock, if you get the answer, let me know, I'm going back to bed."

"Night, Face," Murdock quietly called after the lieutenant as he resumed staring at the ceiling and tried to think.

* * *

Everybody got through the night without any problems, both Frankie and Mad Dog slept the whole night through, but Mad Dog slept later than the rest the next morning. And once he woke up it was just déjà vu all over again; everybody had gone into the room to make sure he was even still alive, and once they got him up, he saw the people hovering over him and screamed and fell off the bed and onto the floor and assumed a death grip on the first thing he found, which once again was B.A.'s leg.

"Hey man, get him off me!" B.A. said.

Frankie, Murdock and Face all grabbed him and pulled him back and again the whole bunch of them fell onto the floor.

"Apparently some things never change," Hannibal noted.

And if things had seemed bad before, they were only worse now. It took forever to get Mad Dog calmed down and even then he was hardly recognizable from the last few days; now he was so scared out of his mind he'd jump at anything and refused to be left alone. Hannibal managed to get a word alone with Face for a brief moment and stressed the urgency of getting Mad Dog to see Dr. Richter or _any_ psychiatrist for that matter, _fast_. Face just nodded in response, whatever had happened, and he wasn't talking about it, Mad Dog was only getting worse.

"Now just take it easy, M.D.," Murdock told him as he and Frankie tried to get him to relax, "We're all here, nothing's gonna happen."

"That's right," Frankie added, "Nothing's gonna happen."

Murdock reached into his pocket and pulled out his coconut and started murmuring to it, "What do you think, CC?" He put it to his ear like a seashell and listened to it respond, and he asked it, "Do you think that's the best thing to do?" He put it to his ear again and nodded.

"I'll bite, what's it say?" Frankie asked.

"CC says we ought to get our stuff packed up and check out of here," Murdock said as he pocketed his coconut, "If the army's still sniffing around then they're not going to go away and must be dealt with head on, and if they've gone away then we're as safe now as we're gonna be."

"But what're we going to do?" Frankie asked, "Where're we going to go?"

Murdock looked to the door to make sure nobody was overhearing them, and he leaned over to the others and reminded them, "Remember we've got to find a place we can pick up a wedding dress and a skull mask. We _do_ have work to do you know."

That seemed to snap Mad Dog part way back to reality and he and Frankie looked to each other and nodded and started going over their plan with Murdock.

* * *

By the late morning, Mad Dog had noticeably calmed down but he was still jumpy, and he all but clung to somebody's side at all times. Hannibal had agreed it was time to check out, but everybody went one at a time to get the van reloaded since they had it parked a 10 minute walk away from the hotel where nobody would find it. And, to avoid drawing any extra attention to themselves, they all went out and came back in from the fire escape outside the window of Murdock's room.

Soon it had just come down to Hannibal and B.A. getting the last minute details packed up in their room, and Face and Mad Dog in Murdock's. For the time being Face had gotten stuck with Mad Dog hanging around him, and it didn't take long for it to wear the conman's patience thin.

"Mad Dog, would you mind stepping back, please?" he asked as he slammed his suitcase shut.

"Sorry."

"Well that's all of my stuff, where's yours?" Face asked.

"Uh…I think Frankie packed ours all up," Mad Dog said.

"Well would you mind checking the room next door? I'd hate to get out of here and _then_ find out we left something behind."

Mad Dog looked to the door hesitantly and asked Face, "Would you go with me?"

That was it, that was the last straw. "Never mind, I'll go look myself!" Face said.

"Well can I go with you?" Mad Dog asked as he followed behind him.

"Oh, be my guest!" Face said as he threw their door open.

They got out into the hall and moved over to the elevator that had just landed on their floor. The doors popped open and Face felt his eyes grow wide as he came face to face with Colonel Decker.

Decker didn't show as much reaction but it was obvious he was just as surprised to see him, and his lips curled into an unnerving smirk, "Templeton Peck."

Acting on a blind instinct, Face drew his arm back and punched Decker's lights out, knocking him back against the MP that rode up with him. The two men ran over into Hannibal's room and Face broke the bad news in one breath, "We gotta get out, Decker's here!"

"Oh great, come on," Hannibal said as one by one they all went out the window and down the fire escape.

"I don't get it, how'd they find us?" Face asked.

"Somebody must've reported seeing us," Hannibal said, "Whatever it is fortunately they didn't call out everybody, or they'd have the whole hotel surrounded."

They hit the ground running just as they heard somebody shooting at them. It was nearing noon which meant a lot of traffic in the streets, both vehicular and pedestrian, a great chance to get lost in a crowd so long as you didn't get blocked out by a row of cars moving at 2 miles an hour. Murdock and Frankie had just made their way back to the hotel when the others came running towards them and Hannibal gave the heads up, "Get to the van, Decker's here!"

And they were off and running, unfortunately, somehow, Decker and his men quickly got to the hotel's outside as well and were chasing after them. Fortunately the pursuit was on foot, which gave the A-Team a few more options, because the MPs couldn't take a lot of chances firing into a crowded area. At one point Murdock figured he'd gotten enough distance between himself and the MPs and he ducked behind a parked car and pulled Frankie behind it with him.

"What're we stopping for?" she screamed at him.

Murdock looked back at the approaching MPs, and Decker, and he said, "You know something, Frankie cous, I just realized there's a big difference in Decker, and the MPs following him."

"What's that?" she asked.

"All the MPs wear helmets, but Decker doesn't," Murdock said as he reached into his pocket, "And that's unfortunate for him, because that leaves his soft head vulnerable to trauma." He delivered and windup and a pitch and tossed the coconut at Decker and somehow managed to hit the colonel directly in the head with it, slowing him down for a few seconds.

"Let's go!" Murdock grabbed Frankie by the arm and resumed running.

Face and Hannibal were neck and neck trying to get past the stream of people that filled up the street, and they both just barely managed to avoid running into a white haired old woman. But when Decker came running up behind them, the old woman didn't take kindly to him charging at her and she swung her purse and beat him in the head with it; and he didn't know what she had in it but he guessed it must've been a miniature anvil because a splitting pain spread out all through his head and he was starting to see stars.

"Take it easy, lady!" he said as his feet and knees turned to jelly and he collapsed in the middle of the street with the space right behind his eyeballs throbbing.

The A-Team and their new friends made it to the van and piled in two at a time.

"Hit it, B.A.!" Hannibal told the sergeant.

They sped out of there before anybody had a chance to try chasing after them and in a matter of very few seconds, left the MPs in their dust.

"That was a little too close for my comfort," Face said as he huffed and puffed trying to catch his breath.

"Whine, whine, whine, that's all you ever do, Faceman," Murdock told him dramatically, "How about the fact that I had to leave my new friend CC behind and in the evil clutches of Decker? She sacrificed herself so we could get away."

"She?" Face repeated, "Murdock, a coconut can't be a girl."

"Well how would _you_ know?" Murdock replied with his nose turned up, "Have you ever asked them?"

Frankie leaned over to the front, hit Hannibal in the shoulder a couple of times and when he turned around she asked him, "We just manage to escape with our lives intact and these two are arguing over a _coconut_?"

"I told you before, stick around us long enough and soon you won't even question it," Hannibal told her.

"Alright, Hannibal, where do we go from here?" B.A. asked.

"Hmmm, good question," Hannibal replied, "I'll let you know when I think of something."

"Well think faster," B.A. told him.

Hannibal turned in his seat slightly to look at the people in the backseat. Frankie and M.D. were staring out the window at the scenery rushing past them, both of them were similar expressions on their faces though Frankie's was the blanker of the two, and Hannibal thought that he knew _just_ what was going through Frankie's mind. He'd never asked her about that postcard she'd burnt back at the island hotel. Whatever she had started to say to her parents, it had been the only way they'd get word from her there, there was no phone service on the island. Whatever it was had been left behind to the flames, but that didn't mean whatever Frankie had had to say was out of her now.

It seemed to Hannibal that she was looking past all of this, past all of the buildings, all the people, all the cars, looking past all the office buildings and the shops and the fast food diners as they sped past them at 70 miles an hour, and looking straight past all of it to her home back in Cranston. Seeing her house, the same house that she had only been too eager to leave two months ago in favor of committal at a hospital; the same house where her parents were still living now, seeing _them_ most of all. Seeing them and knowing that the last thin they would be expecting would be for her to suddenly reappear in their lives, with what, questions? Accusations? Whatever it was, he knew nothing could prepare them for the shock of her suddenly turning back up on their doorstep. And, a sinking feeling in Hannibal's stomach akin to swallowing a rock told him that if Frankie _did_ go back to that house, she _wouldn't_ be going there to _speak_ to her parents. Given what he knew about them from his own meeting with them, it wouldn't surprise Hannibal if Frankie planned to go back to that house and kill both of her parents if she got the chance. He turned back in his seat and looked at the road ahead, they'd make sure she _didn't_ get that chance.


	23. Chapter 23

"A beach house?" Mad Dog asked when their new location was revealed.

"Face managed to scam this place for us as a hiding spot a couple times before," Hannibal explained as they piled out of the van, "So far it's worked like a charm, nobody's found us here yet."

"Well it's the off season around here," Face explained.

"I thought it was always beach season in California," Frankie said.

"That's because you live _in_land," Face told her, "If you actually lived near the beach you'd know the difference."

"Well it looks alright to me," Mad Dog said, "Is it unlocked?"

"Allow me," Face said as he took a lock pick out of his pocket and went up the stairs to the front door.

"Does it have the electricity turned on?" Frankie asked.

"Of course it does, we keep the utilities paid up," Hannibal told her.

"What about food?" Mad Dog asked.

"That's one thing we'll have to look into."

Face got the door open and everybody stepped in.

"Looks like the place could use a good dusting, or a bulldozer," Frankie said as she took a look around at the walls and furniture.

"Who cares? Let's see if there's anything to eat," Mad Dog replied.

He and Frankie ran towards the kitchen, and a few seconds later the A-Team heard two people screaming, and Mad Dog and Frankie doubled back and jumped onto the coffee table in the living room.

"What's the matter?" Hannibal asked in a deadpan tone.

"There's a spider in there!" Frankie said.

"Oh you ought to be ashamed of yourself," Face said condescendingly as he came up to her, "A big strong thing like you scared of a little spider."

"Oh yeah, Tarzan?" Frankie asked and pointed, "Then you go kill it."

"I will," Face said and went into the kitchen.

"I have to say, cous, I'm surprised at you," Murdock said, "Scared of a teeny tiny little…"

Face quickly doubled back from the kitchen and said, "That's it, we're moving," before joining the other two on the coffee table.

"Hmm, must be a big spider," Hannibal observed.

"And no food in the icebox either," Frankie added.

"Alright," Hannibal said, "Murdock, you take them to the store and pick up some food, and we'll see about getting rid of the spider."

Murdock saluted and remarked, "Right-o, Colonel."

"Wait a minute, how're we going to do that? They know what the van looks like," Frankie said.

"Right, but you already cleared up the matter of Face's 'Vette, and we've got that out in the garage behind the house," Murdock explained.

"You guys think of everything, don't you?" Mad Dog observed.

Hannibal gave a three fingered salute and replied humorously, "Scout's dishonor."

* * *

Hannibal had counted on Murdock keeping Frankie and Mad Dog out at the supermarket for longer than they had; there was a pressing issue that he wanted to bring up with Face and B.A., but he quickly found a particular monkey wrench thrown into that plan and had to think of something else. After lunch he suggested that Murdock take the others upstairs and lay low, "After all, if by some chance Decker _would_ be able to track us here, he'd only find B.A., Face and myself, leaving you three free to come to our aid when needed."

"This is starting to get redundant," Frankie noted.

"Try it for ten years and tell me about it," Murdock said as he picked up a couple of large brown paper bags and started for the stairs.

"Hey Murdock, what've you got there?" Face asked.

"Oh, a couple six-packs of beer," he answered.

"Sounds good, save one for me."

"You got it, Faceguy," Murdock said with a nod as he, Frankie and Mad Dog went up the stairs.

"So what's up, Hannibal?" Face asked once they knew they wouldn't be overheard.

"We have to find a way to get to Masterson and get a confession out of him, he killed that woman and I know it but we can't prove it," he said, "We went all over that house, never found anything that could be presented as evidence in a court of law."

"Well I agree, but a confession alone isn't going to do too much," Face said, "He'd have to give the cops something that only the killer would know."

"If we play our cards right we can get that out of him too," Hannibal noted, "It's just a question of how? And _how_ are we going to do it without Frankie and Mad Dog getting in the way? I'm certain if Frankie gets to him first, she's going to kill him, and tempting though that may be, and she may be well within her rights to do it, it's not going to help either of them, they'll never be able to prove what they've been trying to tell people for three years."

"So why don't we just let B.A. persuade him to give himself up?" Face suggested, "You know how convincing he can be."

B.A. growled at Face in response.

Hannibal shook his head, "Not good enough this time…we're going to have to hit him with something a lot harder than that."

"Well why don't we just knock out Frankie and M.D. and keep them here where they can't get in the way?" Face asked, "You know? Just give them each a shot of B.A.'s bedtime drink and…" he caught the murderous glare from B.A. and shook his head, "No, I guess not. Hannibal, Frankie's the root of this whole problem, isn't there a way we can use _her_ in this plan?"

"_If_ I thought she could be trusted, but she's out for blood and if we let her within 10 feet of Masterson she's going to go straight for the jugular."

Face started snapping his fingers as an idea hit him, "What about Murdock's Dr. Richter at the V.A.? He was able to help Murdock hypnotize Mad Dog, maybe they could hypnotize Frankie so she'd be sedate."

"Face, there aren't enough drugs in the world to make _that_ sedate," Hannibal pointed out, "And I have doubts about any chance of hypnotizing her either."

"So what do we do, Hannibal?" B.A. asked.

"I'm thinking," Hannibal told them, "What did Frankie say happened to Murdock's house after he was arrested?"

"Why?" Face asked.

"If it's still standing, maybe we can find a way to lure Masterson back there and kind of reenact the night of the murder," Hannibal said.

"Ah," Face nodded, "Psychological warfare, Murdock would love it."

* * *

Frankie stood before a full length mirror in one of the upstairs bedrooms and held the white, long sleeved and decorated with as Murdock put it 'embellishments' on the bodice, wedding dress up to her. "Where in the world did you find this thing?" she asked Murdock.

"Believe me you don't want to know," he said.

"Just tell me you didn't steal it off a corpse," Frankie said as she tossed it on the bed.

"Okay, I didn't," Murdock told her, "See how easy that was?"

"What about the mask?" Mad Dog asked.

"Got that too," Murdock pulled a latex skull mask out from under the pillow on the bed, "The Dancing Skull."

"Look Murdock, do you really think this is going to work?" Frankie asked, "Do you really think we could scare Masterson to death with this stuff?"

"Well it might require a little fine tuning…we'll either drop him dead from fright or his little bird brain's gonna go bye-bye by the time we get done with him," Murdock told her, "I guarantee it."

Frankie's eyes lit up a little and she seemed to be filled with hope for this very thing, "Good," she said.

Murdock reached into the second bag he'd brought up and pulled out a six-pack of beer and opened one, "Come on, let's have a drink."

Frankie turned and saw the beers and said, "Why not? I missed the champagne for my birthday."

"Now it seems to me," Murdock said as they all cracked open a cold one, "What we need to do is find a time that we can corner Masterson when he is alone…now Frankie, you never answered the question, _is_ Masterson married?"

"He used to be, but I don't think he is anymore," Frankie answered.

"So he'd have that house to himself, right?" Murdock asked.

"Should be," she said.

Murdock got a sinister look on his face as he chuckled ominously and responded, "Perfect."

"Why? What're you thinking?" Mad Dog wanted to know.

Murdock looked to him and said, "Oh, just leave the planning to me."

"Something tells me we're going to get killed either way," Frankie said.

"Think positive, cous," Murdock told her.

"Alright I'm _positive_ we're gonna get killed," she said.

The three of them huddled together on the floor each with a beer in their hand, Murdock remained the voice of reasoning between them all as he said, "Nobody is going to get killed…now that's not to say nobody's going to _die_, but I'm pulling for that to be our guy Masterson, nobody else."

"What about Decker and the military cops?" Frankie asked, "What if they come into the picture again?"

"Then we shall deal with them as we have always done before," Murdock answered self assuredly.

"How long have these guys been chasing you?" Mad Dog asked.

"Off and on, about 10 years," Murdock told them.

"How long is it going to _continue_ for?" Frankie asked.

"Either until we get a presidential pardon or one side dies, whichever comes first," Murdock answered matter-of-factly.

"How can you be so positive with that hanging over your head?" Frankie asked.

"It's easy, I'm crazy, remember?" Murdock pointed out.

Frankie got up and moved over to Murdock and grabbed him and said in a desperate tone, "Murdock, you've got to teach me how to be as insane as you are."

"Well, it'll be a pleasure," he grinned, "You know you're the _first_ person to ever ask me that."

"Murdock you've got to do it," Frankie said as she dug her nails into his sleeves, "You've got to show me how to act like you."

Murdock peeled her fingers out of his jacket and said, "Well the first thing you have to do," his hands started talking for him as he gestured to his chest and said, "Relax…take a _deep_ breath," she did, "Mm-hm, in, and out, and in, and out…the important thing is never panic, to be convincing you must be calm, cool, and totally unfazed by anything you see or hear."

"How do you do that?" Frankie asked.

"You focus on something else," Murdock told her, "I have found that in high pressure situations, it helps to sing."

"Sing?" Frankie asked cluelessly.

"That's right, it completely takes your mind off of whatever the matter at hand is, talking to yourself is a second best but I prefer to go for singing," Murdock explained, "If you can do it in a different language it's even better."

"I can't," Frankie shook her head.

"Oh well no matter," Murdock said, "Have you ever heard this one?" Without even taking in a breath, Murdock switched over to a heavy facsimile German accent and started belting out, "When der fuehrer says we is de master race, we heil! Heil! Right in der fuehrer's face. Not to love der fuehrer is a great disgrace so we heil! Heil! Right in der fuehrer's face!" And true to form he followed up every 'heil' with a razzberry.

Frankie looked at him like he was truly nuts and asked, "That's a song?"

"Sounds like a good way to get shot to me," Mad Dog said.

"That just shows what you don't know, that was a _very_ popular song when I was a kid," Murdock told them.

"Makes sense," Frankie said, "If you're crazy then you have no sense of loyalty to anyone or anything, not the country, certainly not the government or any of their policies."

"Well that's not exactly true, Frankie, but it's not a bad idea to keep in mind either," Murdock replied.

Frankie laughed and told him, "I tell you something I'd like to be able to do, I'd like to take some of these army guys and bash their heads in. What I'd like to do is take that-that-that Colonel Decker or whoever, and steal somebody's uniform so he thinks I'm one of those poor sap MPs under him, somebody who has to answer to him, and when he's chewing me out for not saluting him, taking off the uniform and telling him 'if you want me at attention, you're gonna have to put me there', _just_ to see the look on his face, I'd love to see that."

Either Murdock found that idea funny or the beer was starting to take effect, he laughed at what she said.

"You know you guys have gone through a lot of trouble to help us," Frankie said, "I just wish there was some way we could repay you guys for what you've done."

"Well, we'll hold off on that thought until it's actually _over_," he replied, "After which we can move on to bigger and better things."

"Like what?" they asked.

Murdock looked back and forth at them and repeated, "Like what? Like once we're done with this jerk we'll get your name cleared, get both of you out of the hospital and then the two of you can get married."

Mad Dog and Frankie looked at each other and repeated in unison, "Married?"

Now Murdock felt like he was the only sane one in the room. He noted the way they were both looking at him and he said, "Yeah, aren't you guys…"

Frankie slowly shook her head, and Murdock felt like he just fell through the looking glass at warp drive.

"Murdock," Frankie tried to get him to understand, "We've spent the last three years just trying to keep Mad Dog out of jail and then to bust him out of the hospital, we never had time to think about getting _married_."

Murdock took off his cap and scratched the top of his head, "Oh boy, do I feel like a…" he looked to each of them again and asked, "You mean to say in all the time you two were together it never occurred to either of you…"

"Don't you think if we did we would've done something about it?" Frankie asked, "Hell, if we'd thought of that, we could've gone somewhere to do it, Mexico, New York, I don't know where, but there had to be some place that would've taken us back then. I don't care that we didn't have any money and no place to really go, if I'd thought it would've helped us, we would've done it in a minute."

"Hoo boy, do I feel like an idiot," Murdock said, "I've spent all this time thinking that you two…" he looked back and forth at them again and another idea came to him, "You two wait here," he said as he got up, "I'll be back." But before he left, he turned around, grabbed Frankie and half pulled, half dragged her on the floor over to Mad Dog and set her down beside him and told her, "Stay here."

Murdock tore off down the stairs so fast he was hardly even touching the ground; B.A., Face and Hannibal practically saw a cloud of dust behind him as he zoomed out the front door, only to return a few seconds later and rush back up the stairs equally as fast.

"What do you think that's about?" Face asked.

"Don't ask," B.A. warned him, "We don't want to know whatever's going through that crazy fool's head."

* * *

"I got it I got it I got it!" Murdock yelped as he came rushing up the stairs, right before he crashed into the doorframe and got knocked back. "Oof!" he moaned as he grabbed his nose, but he quickly recovered and came into the room screaming, "I got it, I got it!"

"Got what?" Frankie and Mad Dog asked.

Murdock scampered over to them and all but fell on the floor, practically winding up in half of each of their laps, he reached into his pocket and took out a plastic ring with a tiny airplane on it and said as he all but shoved it onto Frankie's finger because it was a little small, "A ring a ring a ring, you wear this, Frankie, and if anybody asks, you two are engaged."

"Ouch!" Frankie screamed as the plastic band was forced onto her ring finger and scraped the sides, "Whatever for?"

"Well for one thing," Murdock said as if it was a basic fact, "If it was found out that you two _was_ planning on getting hitched when this whole thing started, that's going to make you a _lot_ more sympathetic in the press."

"Who said anything about the press?" Frankie asked.

"Well come on, Frankie, once the story breaks about what's been going on, you two are going to be plastered all over the 6 o' clock news, and the newspapers and maybe they'll even put you on "60 Minutes", you two are going to be famous when this is all over."

"Oh man, we never thought about that," Mad Dog said, "We never thought _anybody_ would believe us."

"They _will_," Murdock told them, "Once we get done fixing Masterson's little red wagon and rearranging his face, you two are going to be celebrities."

"Hell of a way to do it," Frankie said, "Have to have your whole life, your private life, plastered all over the newspapers for the whole world to find out." She leaned forward to look past Murdock over to Mad Dog and told him, "We ain't _ever_ gonna have a normal life, no matter _what_ we do."

Murdock reached and wrapped an arm around each of them and pulled them towards him. "A normal life is vastly overrated, it's _boring_, but once we get past this point, things will get better, you'll see."

"I'd hate to think that they could possibly get worse than this," Frankie commented.

Murdock poked Frankie and asked her, "Just _why_ is it that you two never discussed marriage? You two are perfect for each other, I can tell that."

"It just never came up," Frankie said.

"I don't buy that," he told her and jerked a thumb back in Mad Dog's direction, "I think you knew very well what was going on, you love this boy but you're not marrying him, you said yourself that you think he'd be better off if he'd never met you."

"He would, he wouldn't be in this mess now," Frankie reminded him.

"Well that's no excuse," Murdock told her, "I have never seen two people who belong together as much as you two do, you two are like a yin-yang symbol pulled apart, you need each other, but you refuse to admit it."

"Look at us, Murdock, our lives have already been ruined because we met in the first place," Frankie said.

Murdock turned to Mad Dog and asked him, "Do you agree with that, M.D.?"

He looked past Murdock and over to Frankie and said as he shook his head, "I don't know…I don't regret us meeting and I don't regret anything that I _did_, it's the things I didn't that I regret."

"Hmm, what things would those be?" Murdock asked, slipping once again into the role of mediator.

"You know what," Mad Dog told him, "When that louse Masterson first came around, I should've done something with him. I should've beaten the hell out of him, I should've done something to make sure he didn't come back, that he didn't try anything else with Frankie."

Murdock listened patiently and nodded to show he understood, but then he told the young man, "Masterson is a cold blooded killer, he has no heart, he has no conscience, he has no fear, short of killing him there's _nothing_ you could've done to stop him. You did what you could, and he still has yet to get his hands on Frankie, you've done enough, you did all that anybody could've done."

"Until now," Frankie said.

Murdock turned back to her and nodded, "That's right, until now, _now_ we are going to clean this guy's clock and leave him begging for mercy."

"After everything we've been through, it's weird to think that it's so close to being over now," Frankie told him.

And now that it was, Murdock noted, the fight was visibly going out of her, suddenly Frankie looked like she'd just aged 10 years the hard way, it reminded Murdock of a flower wilting in a massive drought. He leaned over and kissed her on her forehead, then placed his hands on her sides and pulled her over closer to Mad Dog and got her between the two of them and he moved over to where she'd been sitting.

"Frankie, I want you to tell me something, and I want you to be honest…do you love Mad Dog?"

"Of _course_ I do," she told him.

"Alright," Murdock looked to M.D. and added, "And you, Mad Dog, you love Frankie, right?"

"_Of course_," he replied.

"Alright," Murdock shoved Frankie over so she practically fell on top of Mad Dog and he told them, "Then it's time that you told each other as much, go ahead."

They both looked at him like he was even crazier than he was, he pressed one hand against the wall to lean against and with the other shooed at them and persisted, "Go on!"

They looked at each other and now that they were faced with the situation they both looked like neither knew what to say. Frankie opened her mouth and started to say something, but looked like she was going to be sick instead. She fell against M.D. and burst into tears; he looked about as clueless as she did, but he put his arms around her and held her close to him.

Murdock watched this from the other side of the room and felt like two things. One, he felt like he was watching an old Charlie Chaplin film; while the man was known as a world renowned comedian, he had a tendency to take a detour through the tear ducts while en route to the funny bone. For that reason he knew a lot of people didn't care for his movies, they wanted only to laugh, not to cry, and for that reason there was a large bunch of people who preferred the comedies made by Buster Keaton or Harold Lloyd from the same time period. But also, it made Murdock feel like an intruder on this scene; he knew he didn't belong here right now so quietly, he got to his feet and left the room and pulled the door shut behind him.

As he stood out in the hall alone, Murdock felt like a ton of bricks had just fallen down on him, in a small amount of time he'd had a lot of _new_ information to take in from this. He had spent this whole time just assuming that Mad Dog and Frankie had planned to get married once they could get M.D. cleared and released. But thinking back over the past few days, he realized that they had never once mentioned anything of the sort, it had all been in his own mind. But, given the circumstances he supposed it did make sense. Frankie had only been 17 when Mad Dog got arrested, while it wasn't uncommon for girls to marry at that age, especially not uncommon to marry older guys, it was entirely possible that just wasn't her thing. He knew from personal experience some girls wanted to at least finish high school before getting hitched. That could very well have been her mindset back then. But Murdock considered what else this all meant; she and M.D. hadn't known each other long when the murder occurred, probably only a few months. And it seemed that in whatever time they _had_ had together, they had never reached this point of admitting that they were in love.

What a concept, Murdock thought as he took his cap off in one hand and scratched his head. These two had stuck together for three years out of pure necessity and survival, perhaps they hadn't even truly realized that they loved each other. Or…another thought occurred to him, they confused one for the other, and perhaps had Murdoch _not_ been framed for murder and locked up for three years, perhaps they wouldn't have stayed together, would have gone different ways and moved on to other people. Perhaps that was why they had been so hesitant to spit it out now, because they really _weren't_ in love. They'd been through too much together to just walk away now and forget about one another, but that didn't mean they'd necessarily stay together either. And yet…Murdock just couldn't see that happening either. He honestly believed that these two were in love with each other, and were going to stay together until a higher power said otherwise and ripped them apart from each other's grasp.

Through the door Murdock could still hear Frankie crying. He tilted his head back and looked up at the door behind him. This door was a mask, in a sense. Behind the mask, whatever was there was known only to the wearer, the mask shielded what was real from those who saw it. Well, here he was on the outside of this door, and on the inside of it was something that nobody else in the house would be witness to. It wasn't merely this single solitary outburst on Frankie's part; the whole brick wall she spent three years to build up around herself came crashing down. He knew now why he believed her when Hannibal didn't, Murdock knew that there was something not quite right with the picture, but he hadn't been able to put his finger on it until now.

The answer was in the question; how odd it had struck the others that here was M.D. Murdoch, a grown man who had been reduced to being scared of his own shadow, and here was Frankie, barely an adult, harder than petrified nails and ready to claw anybody's throat out that got in her way. They were the same person, the only difference was Frankie had assumed a gruffer disposition since she was still in a position to do something about the situation they'd both been thrown in. If she ever let that brick wall down it was somewhere between her visits to the hospital and her constant switch in manufactured personalities. Simply put, her suffering was silent and ignored, she was only held together when she showed her face in public because she forced herself to.

It hadn't all been an act since she woke up after her hasty liberation from Freemont, but it had been enough of one; somehow, somewhere, she had trained herself not to respond, not to show any obvious emotions, she didn't want anybody to be able to read her. And with a predator like Masterson always nosing around, he could understand that, and he could understand her doing the same thing here; she hadn't known any of them, she was a stranger in a strange land so to speak and refused to let anybody be able to read her and find her weakness. Except he'd been able to crack through her armor almost immediately, that first night in his bedroom; that however, Murdock just took as further proof that she was his family, the way he saw it only a family member would be able to see through that act, to discover that ugly little secret she'd tried to hide for so long.

Murdock realized that everything had suddenly become quiet on the other side of the door. He wasn't about to go in and intrude on them further…but, he turned and hunched down so he could look in the keyhole. As long as they didn't know that he could see them, he could take a quick peek to make sure everything was alright. He closed one eye and squinted through the other to actually be able to see inside the keyhole…oh ho, he felt simultaneously like Costello's baaaaaaaaad boy for snooping, and also as if he was glowing with satisfaction. M.D. and Frankie had hardly moved from the spot on the floor where he'd left them, but one of Cupid's magic lawn darts must've gone to work and done the trick because now the two of them were wrapped in each other's arms and they were kissing. Murdock quietly backed away from the door and tiptoed down the hall to leave them alone and give them the privacy they'd been stripped of for so long; he knew they'd come around sooner or later and for the moment, with this as his proof, and a large, contented grin on his face, he considered his work done for now.


	24. Chapter 24

"Hannibal, assuming that Murdoch's old house is even still standing, _how_ could we possibly get Masterson back there?" Face asked.

Hannibal took a drag off his cigar and said, sounding like he was seriously considering it, "Maybe Masterson believes in ghosts."

"Oh brother," B.A. groaned under his breath.

"What do you mean by that?" Face asked.

Hannibal took another slow drag off his cigar and turned to the lieutenant and said, with a sudden smirk on his face and that trademark 'Hannibal has a plan' gleam in his eye, "Suppose Alice Arden were to return from the grave, and come looking for him?"

"Uh oh," B.A. said, already not liking whatever this plan was.

"I don't get it, Hannibal."

"Well, it's unlikely that Miss Arden could've survived her attack…of course that isn't to say that somebody couldn't try planting that seed of thought into his head," Hannibal told Face, "And if he doesn't buy that she's alive, he might just buy that the dead are not resting in peace and are coming back for him, ultimately driving him back to the scene of the crime."

"But she wasn't murdered at the house," Face told him.

"No, but he'd either lead us to where he _did_ kill her, or take us back to the house all the same since that was where the second crime was committed when he set M.D. up," Hannibal explained rationally, as only Hannibal Smith could.

Face looked past Hannibal to the sergeant and said to him, "B.A., how did we get stuck with a guy like this for our leader?"

B.A. just shrugged. Hannibal just laughed in response.

* * *

Mad Dog and Frankie were still on the floor in Murdock's room wrapped in each other's arms, Frankie resting her head against Mad Dog's collarbone, him rocking lightly back and forth as he held her. Neither had said anything for several minutes, the silence was both comforting and near maddening, but neither dared say anything lest it ruin what had just happened. Murdock had been right of course, they did love each other, but oddly enough it had really taken them to reaching this point to truly acknowledge it.

Frankie inhaled noisily and finally broke the silence, "What're we going to do, M.D.?"

"I don't know, Frankie," he answered as he readjusted his arm around her back, "But whatever we do, we have to make sure that it doesn't get these guys arrested. They've done more for us than anyone else would, we've got to find some way to repay them for it."

"Murdock trusts us," Frankie noted, "More than the others do."

M.D. managed a small smile and said, "I think he likes us."

"We need him to help us again," Frankie told him, "He can get us out of here."

M.D. pulled back from her and asked, "What do you mean, Frankie?"

"I need to get out of this house, M.D., I'm going stir crazy being cooped up in here like a chicken, but the only way we can get out of here is if Murdock comes with us, they won't let us out any other way."

"But how's he going to do that?" Mad Dog asked.

"Maybe he can think of something," Frankie got up and went out to the stairwell and called down, "Murdock?"

"You rang?" Murdock asked as he appeared out of another bedroom across the hall.

"Murdock," Frankie said to him, "Is there any way that we could get out of this house for a little while and go somewhere? I'm ready to climb the walls."

"Well don't do that, we ain't got around to dusting them yet," he told her, "Yeah I can get you guys out of here, but go where?"

"Oh anywhere, it doesn't matter, just get out in the sun for a while," Frankie said.

"Sure, I'll go clear it with Hannibal, I'll get us out of here in no time," he assured her.

* * *

"You want to what?" Face asked.

"Hannibal please, can I take them out for a while? I've talked to Frankie and Mad Dog, Freemont isn't like the V.A., they don't let those patients out onto the grounds or out on field trips, they're shut up in their rooms in the building every day."

"Funny, you'd think he'd be paler," Face noted.

"Hannibal just about everything we've done since we broke them out is keep them indoors, can I just take them out in the 'Vette for a little drive or something, huh?" Murdock asked.

"In _my_ 'Vette?" Face asked, "You've got to be…oh never mind."

"Mm-hmm," B.A. grunted.

"I don't think it'll do any harm," Hannibal said, "If anything happens here we'll call you, and if you get wind of Decker, you can call us on the car's phone, it ought to do them some good to get out of the house for a while." In truth he was glad that this came up because he wanted them out of the house as well, but for a different reason; he wanted to go over his new plan with B.A. and Face but he wanted to make sure that there was no way Frankie or M.D. could overhear it. He could always fill Murdock in on the details later, he knew that the captain would understand it wasn't _him_ they were leaving out of anything.

Murdock went back up the stairs and a couple minutes later came back down with a pair of sunglasses on bouncing a large ball and had Frankie and M.D. following behind him right out the door.

"I've got a bad feeling about this, Hannibal," Face said.

"Oh what's the worst that can happen?" Hannibal asked.

"With Murdock involved, are _you_ nuts?" B.A. asked.

* * *

When they got in the car, Mad Dog and Frankie each donned a pair of shades and looked up at the sky and the bright, blinding sun and took in its rays and the warm breeze in the air as they zoomed along down the road at 50 miles an hour.

"Now this is nice," Frankie noted.

Mad Dog blinked a few times as he stared straight up at the burning sun through his tinted lenses and only let out a contented sigh as agreement.

And, Murdock had to admit, he was thoroughly enjoying himself as well. This was as close to a family outing as he was going to get, he only wished they had more time to do something. As it was, he figured since they _were_ close to the beach that they could head on down to an unoccupied area and enjoy a little sand and sun, Face was right, it _was_ currently the off season. A mixture of bad weather and suspected shark sightings had been keeping people away from the shore lately. He smiled to himself, it was amazing what you could do if you run up from the surf yelling 'shark! Shark!' everybody scattered like flies.

Frankie leaned forward in the backseat and pointed to a fork in the road up ahead and told Murdock, "Turn off here."

"How come?" he asked.

"Just do it, I want to see something," she said.

He didn't get it, but he did it. They turned off on an empty winding road, he watched the signs to see where they were going but about the only ones he saw were stop signs and speed limits. After a while the road led into a small suburban area, for this time of day it was very quiet and there didn't seem to be anyone around so all the houses stood quiet and presumably empty. It gave Murdock a creepy feeling.

Suddenly, Frankie all but climbed over into the front seat and told Murdock, "Stop here, stop the car!"

Both his feet hit the brake pedal and they screeched to a sudden halt. "What is it?" he asked.

Frankie pointed to a large house in the middle of the block. Two stories tall, a skylight in the ceiling, presumably up in the attic, large windows all over the house, the spacious lawn was professionally tended to and perfectly green without a weed in sight. Nothing appeared out of place here most of all. Murdock noticed the black letters on the house by the front door, 4170.

"That's Masterson's house," Frankie told him. Murdock turned in his seat and looked back at her with wide eyes and she said, "This is where Hannibal and the others came earlier."

Murdock looked back to the house and noted that there was no car parked at the curb or up in the driveway, and he couldn't see one by the garage either.

"Nobody's home," he observed.

"We've got to get in there," Frankie said.

Murdock reached for the door handle on his side of the corvette, "I agree, come on."

The three of them got out of the car and went up the driveway to the back of the house. Frankie had brought Murdock's ball with her and when they checked to make sure nobody was watching, she tossed it into the backyard and watched it roll into the bushes. "Oops, lost my ball, we gotta look around," she said dully.

Murdock checked the back door and found it was unlocked, so they slipped in and helped themselves to a look around.

"You ever been here, Frankie?" he asked.

"A couple of times when I was little," she answered, "My parents would bring me here when they'd have something to celebrate, but given my behavior whenever we came, that quickly came to an end."

"And I'm guessing you ain't ever been here before, right, Mad Dog?" Murdock asked.

M.D. shook his head and looked up at the ceiling as if he was expecting to find something. Murdock also looked up, and felt a chill run down his back.

"Frankie," he said, his voice choked suddenly, he cleared his throat and spoke up, "Frankie cous, come over here…you said when you were researching multiple personalities, and psychiatric disorders…you read about serial killers too?"

"Some of them, to see if there was any psychiatric connection," Frankie said.

He looked at her and asked, "And you checked those out of the public library?"

She shook her head and explained, "You do that and there's a record of it, I read them in the library so nobody could trace them back to me, so nobody could figure out what I was doing."

Murdock nodded but he was suddenly finding it harder to breathe, he felt like he was going to be sick and he moved to the back door and quickly stepped outside for some air.

Frankie and Mad Dog were right behind him and found him leaning over a piece of the shrubbery, heavily inhaling and exhaling, and Frankie came up to him and asked him, "Are you alright, Murdock?"

A few more deep breaths and he was able to calm down, he nodded slowly and composed himself. Now he knew that the others had been over this house with a fine tooth comb already, they had had _nothing_ to report, nothing odd about the house in itself or of anything there. Only the pictures, those pictures of his cousin Frankie and countless other young girls, that was all. But Murdock couldn't shake the feeling that had built up in his stomach and was climbing steadily up his spine like the Tingler.

"Frankie cous," he said in a rugged breath, "Did you ever read about a man named Herman Mudgett?"

She shook her head, "No, why?"

Of course she wouldn't have. He should've asked instead if she had read about H.H. Holmes, that _was_ the name the world knew him by much better.

At the V.A., they encouraged patients to read, but Murdock had quickly found they had a very limited selection for the patients, especially those in the psychiatric ward. They wouldn't want the patients to get their hands on anything that might give them ideas after all. But no matter, Murdock had been very well read long before he ever got committed. He wasn't the best student at his school, that was for sure, he had his share of hooky days and he always tried to outdo himself so nobody could ever find out where he went. So, one day he thought he'd come up with his best idea, truant officers would check the playground, the movie theater, any place that would naturally attract kids, so one rainy Monday he instead went to the free public library.

His grandfather loved reading true crime stories, his grandmother didn't have a lot of objections to that, though she did to H.M. reading them, and she always threatened if he had any nightmares because of it, he was going to sleep with his grandfather, and his grandfather would be sleeping on the couch. These threats never had any effect on his young mind though, perhaps because he never got very far in his grandfather's books before the old man would pick them up and put them somewhere H.M. either couldn't find, or couldn't reach. At the library however, nobody could tell him what he could and couldn't read, so he wandered up and down the aisles looking for something that would stick out to him. And he did, he'd found a book of true crime stories and found a section about a man named Dr. H.H. Holmes, known by some as "The Devil of the White City". It sounded good to him, so he found an unoccupied table and sat down to read. He didn't sleep for two nights after that, but he never told his grandparents either.

No, it made sense, Frankie never read about America's first and most notorious serial killer of the late 19th century, because those crimes were not committed in a mad frenzy, the motive behind them was greed. An estimated 200 women and men were killed, and their bodies, or their skeletons, sold to medical schools, their unused remains burnt up in a furnace, all for a profit, and others he took insurance policies out on as missing relatives and then 'found' the bodies to collect on. Oh but that hadn't been all there was to the story. The house these ghastly crimes had been committed in, was a hotel, or as some called it, a castle, designed and built by Holmes _for_ the purpose of trapping and killing people, especially women. Murdock had seen the maps, the blueprints drawn that laid out the house of horrors, he could still remember: here the reception room, here the waiting room, here a dark room, here a trap door, here a maze, here an asphyxiation chamber where he could listen to his victims scream for help as he gassed them to death, here a secret room, here an elevator for moving the bodies from floor to floor, here a hanging chamber, here a room bricked up, here a dissection laboratory, here a trap door from the third floor, here a secret passage leading down to the basement. So elaborate, it seemed too weird to be true, and yet it was. And all over the house were traps and alarms, soundproofed walls so nobody could hear the victims crying out for help, metal plates in the wall so they couldn't escape, and torches to burn them to death if they tried. That had been his first exposure to what mankind _truly_ was capable of doing, without it being a lesson taught by a history teacher or some other adult; that had been his own grim discovery, and it had scared the hell out of him.

And here, now, he had the same paralyzing feeling creeping up his spine, as he remembered having that dark stormy day over 25 years ago when he read the book of a ghastly murderer who by now was all but forgotten and buried in time. And if they didn't catch Masterson, the same would happen here, only it would happen without the public ever knowing what he did in the first place. He couldn't let that happen. He looked up at the second story of the house, he _knew_ that there wasn't anything of that sort here, that they wouldn't find anything like that behind these walls and windows; but all the same he couldn't shake this feeling. He was convinced, _something_ had happened in this house, there was a dark force here, almost like an evil presence watching over them, knowing that they were here and why they had come. Would it try to stop them? Or would it permit them to finish what they came here to do?

"What is it, Murdock?" Frankie asked.

Murdock came back to the here and now, he shook off what was going through his mind and answered with a reassuring expression on his face, "Nothing…" he came between them and placed his arms around their shoulders and told them, "Now come on me ghastlies, we've got a house to haunt and if we're going to do it right we need to know it as well as we know our enemy."

* * *

"How long do you think we'll have before Masterson comes back?" Mad Dog asked once they reentered the house.

"If he's still running on his old schedule," Frankie told them, "Then we should have a couple of hours, and if not…"

"Then we'll just have to improvise," Murdock said, "Now come along everybody, let's search the house, and look out for anything that could help us."

Mad Dog went to the front hall and made his way up the stairs to see what there was on the second floor of this house. Murdock followed closely behind him to make sure he didn't get into anything that he shouldn't. The idea was to get in, see everything they needed to see, and get out without anybody being able to tell that anyone had been in the house. Though he had to admit he was just as morbidly curious to see what all there was in this house.

As he went up the stairs he noticed the framed photographs of several women. Murdock doubted that Masterson actually knew any of these women, more likely they just came with the frames, like new wallets. Obviously, it seemed to Murdock, Mr. Masterson was indeed no longer married, otherwise it would have to be a very open one for the Missus to allow these to hang up where she could see them. He looked up to the top of the stairs as he climbed the steps one at a time, as if expecting someone to be up there waiting for them; to jump out when they least suspected and to attack. Of course Murdock knew he was just being silly, but he didn't feel silly, in fact he couldn't find anything to laugh at right now at all. He didn't like this house, he didn't like being in it and to be honest he couldn't wait to get out of here, it just gave him a bad feeling all the way through his body.

They reached the top of the stairs and looked in the open doorways. The one opposite the head of the stairs looked like a master bedroom. Murdock and Mad Dog crept in and looked around every corner to make sure there _wasn't_ anyone watching for them.

"Did they say where the pictures were?" Mad Dog asked.

"No," Murdock answered, "Why?"

But he could guess. Mad Dog seemed determined now to make up for not doing a better job to protect Frankie in the beginning. His shaky-as-a-leaf behavior was slowly disappearing and replaced by something harder, more determined. And if it were to happen that any of these pictures Masterson had of Frankie turned out to be compromising, he would kill that man as soon as he set foot in the door. If nothing else, he would destroy the pictures so the sick freak couldn't derive anymore pleasure from gawking at them. But Murdock knew if that happened, Masterson would know someone had been there and it would be _before_ they were ready for him.

Mad Dog didn't answer, instead he looked to Murdock and asked him, "What do you think he did with the other girls?"

Murdock bit his bottom lip and was considering the possibility when they heard Frankie screaming for them from the floor below. They ran down the stairs and found her in the kitchen, looking like she was ready to collapse. She was holding onto the countertop by the sink for support.

"What is it, what's the matter?" Murdock asked.

Frankie reached with her free hand and pulled a drawer open from under the countertop. Murdock went over to the sink and looked in the drawer and saw it was a silverware drawer. There was a fitted tray to hold the butter knives, forks, spoons, etc., but there was also a space next to the tray for larger utensils like spatulas, large spoons with holes, and…

Murdock took a Kleenex out of his pocket and reached in and pulled out the large knife with a thin straight blade and a decorative handle and he asked, "Is this…"

Frankie moved her head forward once in half a nod and said, "That's the cake server that disappeared from Mad Dog's house the night of the murder…the one we used for the birthday cake."

Murdock held it up to the light as if trying to see what had been cleaned away, and said, "If this is the murder weapon..."

"He cleaned it off and has been using it?" Mad Dog asked in disbelief, "Why?"

Frankie inhaled slowly and said, "Now _I'm_ going to be sick."

Mad Dog grabbed her by the arm and rushed her out the door, Murdock stood there in the kitchen gazing at the cake cutter, trying to figure out what to do. Could a police forensics lab find any blood on the blade? Murdock sniffed it, as if he was trying to determine what it was cleaned with…maybe ammonia, purely a guess, there was no smell anymore. Even if they could find blood, they couldn't prove whose it was, only what type it was, and there were millions of people in L.A. alone with any kind of type blood that would be on it. If he took it, they could have the key to the crime, but if he took it, Masterson would know it was missing. Now, he had no way of knowing where Frankie or Murdoch were, by now all he could know was that neither of them were at either hospital anymore. But then, the only place he knew to look was at Frankie's house, and might go after her own parents. He was debating with himself as to if that would count as a plus or loss. He was glad to have another member of his family around and he was proud to be related to Frankie, but he was _not_ proud to be related to her parents, and it made him wonder _which_ one of them he _was_ related to, and who was merely an in-law? He knew that by now it didn't matter.

Murdock was good at making it seem like he didn't always know what he was doing, but the truth was he knew a lot more than people gave him credit for. But this was one time when he didn't know what to do, and he decided he would call Hannibal and ask the colonel what he should do, Hannibal would know what to do. For now, he put the knife back in the drawer and shut it, and put the Kleenex back in his pocket, oh what a sight he'd be carrying that out for people to see. He pulled the back door shut behind him and saw Frankie and Mad Dog standing by the garage where they couldn't be seen from the street.

"You alright, Frankie?" Murdock asked.

"No," she shook her head, "Let's get out of here."

Murdock's heart went out to her, she'd spent over two years preparing herself for this moment, and now that it had come, she hadn't been able to handle it. He didn't even bother looking back to the house, that knife would still be there, it and the man who had taken it, wouldn't be going anywhere anytime soon.

"Come on," he said as he lightly grabbed her and walked her out towards the car.

"Hey wait a minute," Mad Dog went and pulled the ball out from the bushes and came back with it in tow, "Now nobody will know _anybody_ was here."

"Good thinking," Murdock told him as they went back out to the curb where the 'Vette was parked.

"What're we going to do now, Murdock?" Frankie asked.

Realistically Murdock knew the next item on the list was to find a way to know when Masterson would be home, and alone. But that would have to wait, right now he had another priority right in his lap.

"We have to wait," he told them.

"Wait!?" the others repeated in disbelief.

"How can we just sit around waiting?" Frankie asked.

Murdock could tell she was getting very worked up very quickly, so he took this opportunity to remind her, "Breathe, Frankie, breathe, deeper, deeper, calm down, remember what I told you, if you want to convince people you are insane you must _not_ respond."

"Murdock…"

"Now listen, cous, we go up against murderers quite frequently, and as tempting as it would be to just bust in and smash their heads in, that's not the way to do it, you _have_ to be calm and patient and _wait it out_ until the right moment comes. It's a tricky part of the business but that's why we're the professionals here, because we've got a lot of experience in that field," he told her.

"Okay," Frankie concurred, "So we wait, but what do we do in the meantime?"

"Well first of all," Murdock said, "We've got to get out of here before somebody sees us."

"And go where?" Mad Dog asked.

* * *

Well, Murdock had originally planned for them to go to the beach, and that's exactly what they did. Once he got the others calmed down and they got back in Face's 'Vette, Murdock turned the car around and went back to the way he'd originally come and went in the other direction out to the beach. As planned, it was empty so it was just the three of them. Apparently Face must've had the same location in mind on some of his more current dates because Murdock found a couple of blankets in the trunk that still had some sand on them. By now the sky was filled with clouds so nobody would be getting much sun, but at least they were out in the open and alone so they could plot among themselves. Murdock told Frankie and Mad Dog to take their shoes off and to take the blankets and put them down underneath them; if possible he really didn't want them dripping sand everywhere when he got them home and have to explain to Hannibal where they'd been.

Murdock looked around the beach and saw a payphone down by the dock, he found some change in his pocket and left Frankie and Murdoch for a minute to call the house and check in with Hannibal. Sure, he could've called from the phone in the car, but right now he also wanted to be out in the open, not in an enclosed space, even if the top did come down, it wasn't the same.

"You did _what_?" Hannibal asked, sounding like he was hoping he had heard wrong.

Murdock closed his eyes and breathed in, waiting for the reprimand from his colonel.

"And you found what?" Hannibal asked.

Murdock opened his eyes again and explained, "Frankie told me the night of the murder a cake server had disappeared from the dining room table, she thinks it was the real knife used to murder that woman. He's got it in his silverware drawer."

"Is it still there?" Hannibal asked.

"I wasn't sure whether to bring it with me or not," Murdock said, "Ultimately I left it behind because I had a more _pressing_ issue to tend to."

"Probably the best thing you could do," Hannibal said, "We're going to get this guy but it's going to take time."

"Hannibal, something I wonder," Murdock told him, "By now Masterson has to know Frankie and Murdoch are gone, so what do you think he's going to do? He did all this to get his hands on Frankie, I don't see him walking away undefeated now."

"It's a good question but unfortunately I'm not sure right now," Hannibal replied, "Where are you guys?"

Murdock turned and looked back and saw Frankie and Mad Dog had settled down on their blankets in the middle of the sand and were rolling the ball he'd brought back and forth to each other like a couple of small kids, it made him smile. "Oh," he said as he turned back to the phone, "We just stopped off in a little out of the way place, it's nice and private out here, nobody around to bug us."

"How far are you from the house?" Hannibal asked.

"Oh, about three miles I think," he answered.

"That's fine, when do you anticipate being back here?" he asked.

"I think we'll stay out here for a little while, Colonel, if you don't mind," Murdock said, "I think it's doing them some good."

"Alright, we'll keep an ear open for anything and give you a ring if something comes up," Hannibal told him.

"Okey-dokey, Colonel," Murdock said as he hung up the phone.

Murdock looked up at the sky and saw that the clouds were getting a yellowish hue to them. Usually that didn't happen until closer to night and usually when there was going to be a storm. It in turn made everything down on the earth look a bit more yellow than it did before; Murdock didn't think there was going to be a storm and for the time being anyway, noticed how pretty it made everything look. That, mixed with the warm breeze and the otherwise good weather they were having really made him feel alive, the same way he always felt as soon as Face got him out past the V.A.'s front doors and off the property and they made a mad dash to the van. It felt great, it also gave him ideas.

He looked back to his cousin and her boyfriend and thought what a shame it was he couldn't find someone who would marry them right now as they were. Unfortunately that was one disadvantage of being certifiably insane, they took away your legal right to marry, and he knew it. And even though he knew that Mad Dog wasn't actually insane, he knew that right now that wouldn't matter where a justice of the peace was concerned. All the same…a devilish smirk found its way to his face and a thought occurred to him that all the same, on the way home he might stop off at the grocery store and pick up a box of rice. He had a feeling that they could easily have a wedding on their hands before too long at this rate, especially if he had any say in the matter.

Frankie talked about their lives being ruined; that was something that Murdock and the rest of the Team could understand very well. Being hunted fugitives had a tendency to cramp any plans for anything resembling a 'normal' life; B.A. could hardly get back to Chicago to visit his mother, even if Face _was_ a person willing to make a commitment he knew the Army would kill that idea real quick, and Lynch, no, now Decker, would be hunting down everybody in the phone book named John Smith hoping to catch the right one. And as for himself, he was much in the same boat as Mad Dog was right now, oh he hadn't been accused of murder, but all the same his permanent residence was a mental hospital, and everybody knew what happened in _those_ places. Would he necessarily say that their lives were _ruined_ though? No, rearranged horribly, disastrously altered, but they weren't willing to give up yet. They'd already proven that regardless of the Army's plans for them, they could run circles around the MPs any day of the week, and in spite of always being on the run they all had it pretty well. If nothing else it sure as hell beat the alternative of being back in Fort Bragg or in prison, that much he knew.

Ah, but he knew he couldn't say the same thing for these two. True a mental hospital was _not_ as bad as a capital murder conviction in a maximum security prison, but either way Mad Dog and Frankie had both lost the lives they knew and anything resembling the normalcy that they had once known in their day-to-day routines. Now, for their own part Murdock could confess that to some degree, they _were_ guilty, they _had_ taken the money from the bank in Hanoi and he _had_ been the one to fly them for that mission. By some logics the reason _why_ they had done it wouldn't even matter, the fact remained that they _did_, and he was just as guilty for aiding and abetting them during the course of the robbery. But theses kids? They'd had nothing to do with that poor woman's murder, so why had they had to suffer the consequences for it all these years? Thinking about it again, he couldn't fault Frankie for saying she wanted to kill Masterson, he only knew the man secondhand and _he_ wanted to kill him too.

Murdock walked over to Frankie and Mad Dog and saw that they'd fallen asleep on the blanket wrapped in each other's arms. He smiled and knelt down beside them and brushed some loose grains of sand off of them, then brought one corner of the blanket up to cover them when the wind picked up again. He sat down on the other blanket and recollected his ball and watched the two younger people as they slept. He felt a big goofy grin on his face until he swore he looked like The Man who Laughs, but he didn't care, he liked these two, and he could foresee a happy ending for them somewhere down the line; it was just a matter now of finding that point and reaching it.


	25. Chapter 25

Hannibal had one hand pressed against the telephone stand, where he hadn't moved since hanging up with Murdock. Face and B.A. had been there when he took the call, and after Hannibal hung up he had informed them both of what had happened.

"What do you think, Hannibal?" Face asked.

Hannibal shifted his weight and pressed his hand back against the wall behind him and leaned back against it. He let out a long exasperated sigh and looked up to the ceiling for a minute.

"There's something Murdock wasn't telling us…he sounded like something horrible had happened, but if it did he wasn't saying."

"What do you mean, Hannibal?" B.A. asked.

Hannibal bit one side of his bottom lip and he told them, "Something he wasn't telling us…but was trying to. Might even be something about the house itself." He squeezed his eyes shut and pinched the skin between them as if he had a migraine, "Face."

Uh-oh, he knew that tone. "Yeah, Hannibal?"

"When we were in that house earlier, did you happen to see any pictures of Masterson's wife…or any belongings that might be hers?"

Face thought back and said, "I don't know…we weren't really looking for anything like that."

"What you thinking, Hannibal?" B.A. asked.

Hannibal pinched the fleshy part of the bridge of his nose again and said, "Murdock said that the knife that's likely our murder weapon was kept in the silverware drawer…not exactly a trophy, it wasn't separated from the other utensils, it wasn't packed away, it wasn't stored in a container to preserve it…just mixed in perfectly with everything else in the drawer."

Face felt his stomach turn and a stabbing sensation in his back, "Like he's been using _all_ his sharp utensils on other victims?"

"Exactly," Hannibal said.

Face's eyes widened and his mouth fell open as he nodded and processed what this meant.

"And his wife?" Face asked.

"I think we better find out _where_ she is," Hannibal told them, "If she's still around, maybe she can answer some of our questions."

* * *

Murdock felt his cheek had gone numb while he was asleep and woke up and realized the reason why was he had fallen asleep using his ball for a pillow. He noticed the position of the sun had changed behind the clouds and he knew they'd been gone longer than they should've. He knew that when they got back to the house, Hannibal was going to have it in for him; well, he was willing to take responsibility for what he'd done. As he told Frankie before, there really wasn't a whole lot Hannibal could do with him. He could chew Murdock out, he could use his authority and rank to bust him down to a gnat, he could make Murdock run one of his own trademark Hannibal Smith torture chamber obstacle courses until he puked, but he could not, would not, could _never_ cut Murdock from the Team, that much he knew. No matter what happened today, tomorrow, or anywhere in the immediate future, the day would come they would need to fly again and they couldn't find another pilot with the experience and skills and knowhow that he possessed. Every one of them had an obvious purpose they served that secured their place on the Team, this was his own personal safety net. Not that Murdock actually believed Hannibal would ever discharge him from the Team, still, it didn't hurt to consider alternative possibilities.

He got Frankie and Mad Dog up and they got everything put back in the car and drove out of there and headed back for the house.

"What're we going to do, Murdock?" Frankie asked.

He looked at her in the rear view mirror and noted the look on her face. It was the same look he'd seen when he had to airlift wounded soldiers to a hospital unit back in Vietnam; an attending medic would be in the chopper when possible, and too often he'd seen that look that told him they weren't going to make it. And right now he was starting to feel like he was _back_ in that chopper trying to buy them those few precious minutes that make all the difference.

He sucked in a sharp breath of air and said, "First thing we've got to do is get cleared with Hannibal, I'll take care of that. Next thing we have to do is find a way we can get surveillance on the house, know when Masterson's going to be there _and_ when he's going to be alone, and when we know for fact he is, _then_ we're going to attack." His head started bobbing from side to side and he laughed like the mad doctor's assistant in a bad horror movie and said as he rubbed his hands together sinisterly, "Mercy will _not_ be shown."

"Good," Frankie replied.

* * *

"Well," Face said as he hung up the phone and addressed the colonel and sergeant, "I just got off the phone with the people at the newspaper in Cranston, there are no reports in any of their records about Mrs. Masterson dying or disappearing."

"That don't mean anything," B.A. told them.

"Well I think we lucked out," Face continued, "Apparently the woman I talked to knows her, or _did_, she said that Mrs. Jodie Masterson has been abroad for the last few months."

"Where?" Hannibal asked.

"Australia," Face answered.

"Damn," Hannibal hissed.

"Apparently it had always been a lifelong dream of hers to go there and…now she's gone," Face said.

"Are they sure about that?" B.A. asked.

"Well the lady said she got a letter from her a couple weeks ago," Face said, "Masterson may be smart but I doubt he could fake all the postage it would take to get a letter sent from Australia to Los Angeles."

"Alright," Hannibal folded his arms tightly against his chest, "So maybe she's alive."

"And she knows what her husband's doing?" Face asked.

"Wouldn't be the first time," Hannibal said, "Too bad she's not closer to being within arm's reach so we could have a few words with her."

"Hey Hannibal…" B.A. started to say.

The colonel raised a hand and replied, "I know, B.A., we're _not_ flying, we don't have the time for a trip like that anyway."

"So we're back to square one," Face said.

"Maybe not," Hannibal told him, "Were you able to find out what she's like? What she does?"

"No," Face shook his head.

"My gut's telling me either she took this trip to put as much distance between she and her husband as is possible…or he put her on the plane for Australia to get her out of the way, and paid for all the expenses to make sure she stays gone for a while," Hannibal said.

"This sucker' making me sick, Hannibal," B.A. said.

Hannibal looked back to the sergeant and remarked, "I know, B.A., he's nauseating all of us."

"You really think she knows?" Face asked in disbelief.

"Uh-huh," Hannibal nodded sharply, "She knows and either ran away from him or agreed to disappear and give him room to work, either way _she_ makes me sick. At any time she could've dropped a dime to the cops about what was going on and saved _everybody_ a lot of trouble, but she didn't, that makes her just as guilty of what's happened as he is, _and_ she knows it."

They heard the corvette pull up outside, Face looked to the front window and said, "Well here they are, Dingbat and the Creeps. You want us to leave you guys alone for a while, Hannibal?"

"That won't be necessary," he replied.

Hannibal went over to the front door and waited for them to come in. The knob turned, the bolt retracted, and the next thing Hannibal knew, his nose was busted when the door was kicked in and knocked against him. The first thing he saw was Frankie who kicked her foot back behind her like a mule and kicked the door shut just as efficiently.

"You got something to say you say it to me," she told him, "You _got_ anything to say to me?"

Hannibal groaned as he felt his nose with his gloved hand and made sure everything on his face still moved like it was supposed to. "Oof, what the hell did you do that for?" he asked her.

"I wanted to make sure I had your attention," Frankie told him, "So I'm going to say again, if you've got a problem with the way things have been going around here, you take it up with me, you got that?"

Hannibal let go of his nose and stared her down, and just smirked and chuckled under his breath and commented, "I like this kid, she's got personality."

"Hannibal, have you lost your mind?" Face asked.

"He lets that crazy fool fly us, what do you think?" B.A. asked.

"Murdock," Hannibal said as he saw the pilot and Mad Dog coming in the front door, ignoring the other two, "Why don't you take M.D. and Frankie in the kitchen and the three of you can get started on dinner for everybody?"

Murdock nodded in agreement and lightly shoved the other two along with him.

"Hannibal, what was that about?" Face asked.

Hannibal rubbed his nose and explained, "She's looking for a fight, she's not going to get one. We may have found the murder weapon from them going to that house, but it was probably the worst thing they could've done, she's out for blood now and she's not thinking clearly, and Mad Dog's not going to be too far behind her."

"So what do we do with her?" Face asked.

"Nothing, right now there's nothing we _can_ do that'll do any good with her, she needs to get it out now, in the meantime, no matter what she does _nobody_ pick a fight with anybody else, that'll just egg them on, and I don't think I need to remind anybody that the _last_ thing we need right now is to be fighting each other, got it?"

"Yes Hannibal," they both answered.

* * *

"Frankie, what did you do that for?" Mad Dog asked once they were alone in the kitchen.

Frankie squeezed her eyes shut and pinched the bridge of her nose and groaned, "Ohhhhh I didn't mean to do it. I don't know what's wrong with me."

"Don't worry about it, we're used to _that_," Murdock told her, "He knows you didn't mean it."

"All the same he seems to be getting battered and bruised pretty well these days," Frankie replied.

"He's used to that too," Murdock added, "You really haven't seen _anything_ until you've seen a combat soldier having nightmares."

"Yeah well, he may be used to it but I'm not," Frankie said, "If we don't get Masterson soon I think I'm going to go out of my mind, whatever's left of it."

Murdock saw Frankie and saw the dead, faraway look in her eyes, not seeing any of them or this house, seeing past it all _back_ to that house of evil, and the devil man responsible for it all. Murdock knew better than to be thinking what he was right now, but the only thing currently going through the pilot's mind was he wondered just what exactly Frankie _would_ do to Masterson if she were given the chance. But, regardless of his own curiosity, Murdock knew that realistically there was no way that Frankie was going to be allowed within two feet of this guy when they caught him. Personally he'd be content with hanging the son of a bitch on a meat hook and letting Frankie beat him like a punching bag, but that would have to wait until a later time when they knew they had him.

It turned out that they all seemed to be somewhere on the same page. Hannibal came into the kitchen and informed Murdock that they were going to stake out Masterson's house and wait for him to come home, then they were going to plant a tracking device on his car so they'd know when and where he was at all times. It sounded like a good idea to Murdock, there was just the question of who was going to go out to the house to do it. Hannibal decided it would be a good idea if they all went; there was always the chance that they might get caught, and while so far it seemed that Masterson only derived pleasure from physically attacking women and young girls, there was no guarantee he didn't have it in him to try killing one of them as well. And if that should happen, the others would be there to ambush him. It was evident to Murdock that this guy was _really_ working Hannibal's nerves because it was almost impossible to get a trace on him, finding _any_ information about him had been about as hard as the obstacles they put new clients through in hiring _them_.

* * *

After dinner they piled into the van and went back to Cranston. By now it had gotten dark and it was unlikely anybody would be able to spot them. They parked the van half a block from the house and waited. 20 minutes later they saw a car coming slowly up the road and pull into the driveway; they stayed where they were and waited to make sure that Masterson was staying in for the night. As it turned out, he wasn't, three minutes after he went in, he came back out, got back in his car, backed out of the driveway and went back down the road.

"Let's follow him and see where he goes," Hannibal told B.A.

They did, and followed the car, which Face identified as a black Park Avenue Buick, to a restaurant downtown. They saw Masterson get out of the car and head on in, and Hannibal suggested they do the same and see about getting a table close-by because he was sure Masterson would be striking up a heated conversation with somebody else. As they went in single file, Murdock took his cap off and tucked it in his jacket and tried smoothing his hair back to look presentable since the restaurant did seem to cater to the fancier breeds of people.

Hannibal spotted Masterson at a table further to the back and he found them a table a couple spaces over. It gave him a good view of Masterson and another man he had come to speak to, and he was able to pick up part of their conversation.

"May we see some menus, please?" Murdock asked a waiter.

"Murdock, we already ate," Face reminded him.

"Alright, may _I_ see a menu, please?" Murdock tried again.

"Murdock, how can you still be hungry?" Face asked.

"He's gotta eat, there ain't nothing to him," Frankie pointed out, "Just a bag of bones in a leather jacket."

"Ha ha ha," Murdock replied sarcastically, "Besides, it isn't all for me, I want to get a doggie bag to take home to Billy."

"Ain't no dog, Murdock," B.A. told him, "So it can't eat anything either."

"Murdock, I really don't think they do doggie bags in a place like this," Face tried a different approach.

Hannibal ignored their bantering and kept his ear strained to pick up the discussion between Masterson and his guest.

"What do you mean she's gone?" Masterson asked.

"Look, I don't know what happened, but she just came up missing one morning," the other man told him, "We went over every inch of the hospital, we couldn't find any way she could've escaped."

"Well nobody came in and took her out," Masterson replied, "She _had_ to have gotten out on her own."

"Well she can't have gotten far, where would she go?" the other man asked.

Masterson chewed on that thought for a minute and said, "She's got to be somewhere nearby."

"Maybe she went back to her parents' home," the second man suggested.

"If that had happened, I'd know it, in any case I called them a few days ago, they thought she was still in Freemont," Masterson remarked, "So they clearly haven't heard from her, if they had they would've called me. We've always been very good friends."

Hannibal rolled one eye, Murdock's amateur diagnosis of 'sociopath', yes, Hannibal would believe that very easily right about now. This guy played everybody he came across like a deck of cards. Hannibal rolled his neck to match his eye, if he had to listen to this hogwash for much longer, he thought he was going to be sick.

And now he was sick.

Hannibal stiffened in his chair, his back straight and rigid against the chair's back, his foot moved forward under the table and found a rubber sneaker toe and pressed down on it like a buzzer.

"Yes, Colonel?" Murdock asked as he leaned over across the table.

Hannibal also leaned forward and quietly murmured to Murdock through gritted teeth and barely open lips, "Murdock, get Frankie and Mad Dog, and very slowly, get them out of here."

"What's wrong?" Murdock asked, and by now everybody else was wondering the same thing.

"Just do it," Hannibal quietly told him, in a tone they all knew better than to argue with.

Murdock pushed back his chair and said, "Alright guys, you heard the man, let's go." The three of them got up and he took their hands in his and walked them towards the exit, but then he saw what Hannibal had seen and he jerked around and led them over towards the kitchen.

"Alright guys, get up," Hannibal told Face and B.A., "I just saw an MP, Decker's tracked us down again."

"Aw man, I'm getting tired of this," B.A. said.

They all moved towards the kitchen to get out the back way, B.A. had just disappeared from the main dining room when Hannibal and Face heard somebody, not Decker, say, "Alright everybody, stay right where you are, United States Army, we're looking for three escaped fugitives who…"

The guy sounded young, Hannibal felt an increase of confidence, most likely some young rookie new on the job, as long as Decker wasn't in their main sight right now, that did them a favor. He was close to the champagne cart and he picked up a bucket full of ice and spun around and tossed it at the MP closest to them. The MPs were taken aback for a split second by the surprise assault. Face also picked up a couple bottles of champagne by their necks and tossed them like a couple of juggling clubs; one hit an MP in the head and the other smashed on the floor, puncturing the feet of whoever stepped in the mess of bubbly water and glass shards. It gave them enough of a head start to make a break for the kitchen.

Everybody rushed out the back way and into the alley behind the restaurant, unfortunately they couldn't reach B.A.'s van because it was around front where the MPs were so the chase had to be on foot. It was like running an obstacle course, fortunately that was something the A-Team was most familiar with, they avoided tripping over knocked over trashcans or drunken bums laying in the street, and also managed to avoid the potshots being taken at them by the parade of army men behind them. Unfortunately they needed another distraction to buy them enough time to make their escape, and then, Hannibal saw it.

Up ahead he could see a large galvanized trash barrel some of the local bums were using as a fire pit; he kicked the barrel over and sent it rolling towards the MPs, that seemed to do the trick, one of them anyway. As they turned a corner he saw an abandoned warehouse that looked promising, they ran around to the side of the building and he picked up one of the trash cans from a pile of garbage that looked like it could rival the Matterhorn, smashed one of the large windows and had everybody climb in and get out of sight. Working by little more than the flame of his lighter, Hannibal had everybody follow him as he tried to figure out the shortest distance between two points. He found a side entrance door on the other side and had B.A. work his own magic touch on it.

The building probably hadn't been used in five years and the doors weren't anymore eager to come out of retirement, but he got them open and they stepped out and saw that while the building wasn't being used, the alley beside it was. There was a ten wheel truck parked there for the night, and it gave Hannibal an idea. He had B.A. climb into the cab and hotwire it, then put it in gear, released the brakes, get it in motion, and then jumped out as it started going down the street at 35 miles an hour. It made a smooth trip a few blocks down, and then crashed into a couple of large dumpsters and made a big mess. As planned, the MPs picked up the sound of the ruckus and followed it, thinking they were hot on the A-Team's tail, and since they left the door open, the MPs would think they bailed out and took off on foot again.

Hannibal laughed, pleased at his work as the MP cars raced by, but it was short lived when he heard Face screaming.

"What's wrong, Face?" Hannibal asked as he turned back to the lieutenant still in the building, "Is everybody alright?"

Face came out the door, his face pale and his eyes wide and he looked like he was going to be sick, "No…"

Hannibal and B.A. looked back in the building and realized that they seemed to be missing some people.

"Isn't everybody here?" Hannibal asked suspiciously, already feeling the knot his stomach was turning into.

Face shook his head grimly and said, "No, they're not."

* * *

Decker grumbled vulgarities to himself as he kept an icepack on his jaw, ranting and raving but never getting any intelligible words out, about concussions and doctor's orders, _and_ the damn A-Team, getting away _again_. He stomped around his office kicking filing cabinet doors shut and closing folders on his desk when somebody knocked on his door.

"Come in," he said.

Captain Crane entered and said, "Colonel Decker, sir."

"What is it, Crane?" Decker asked.

"Uh…some of the MPs went out earlier on their own volition and tried chasing down some possible leads about the A-Team," Crane started to explain.

"What?" Decker looked ready to hit the ceiling, "Those incompetent…"

"They _did_ find the A-Team, sir," Crane told him.

Decker's black and blue jaw dropped, "What?"

"Unfortunately they got away, but they _were_ traveling with a few companions and the MPs managed to catch one of them before they escaped," Crane explained.

"Who is it?" Decker asked.

"I don't know, they said the name is a Franklin Murdock."

"Murdock?" Decker repeated, his eyebrows raising as he took this in, "Murdock, eh? Well," he chuckled self assuredly, "I do believe we've cracked the mystery of the A-Team's unknown pilot. Have the MPs bring him in."

Crane opened his mouth and got out, "Hi—" but closed his mouth just as he started to get the 'm' out to finish the word. He looked at the colonel with a vexed expression on his face but he nodded and said, "Right away, Colonel."

Decker sat down at his desk and smiled over his aching jaw, well well well, the A-Team was good, but he was better. Now that they'd caught H.M. Murdock, things should get _very_ interesting from here on out, he thought.

Crane reappeared in the doorway and was talking to the MPs. "In here," he said as he held the door open.

The self confident smirk disappeared from Decker's face as he saw the MPs bring in a young woman with red hair, with the center of her bottom lip split and a small bruise on one cheek, dressed in blue jeans, a T-shirt, sneakers, and had her hands cuffed together in front of her. She looked at the colonel with a blank face, if Decker _was_ able to read anything on that expression, it would most likely be boredom, but trying to read her was at this moment like trying to read a brick wall.

"Crane, is this supposed to be some kind of joke?" Decker demanded to know.

"Sorry, sir," Crane replied and explained, "This woman and a couple of other people were seen with the A-Team at the time of their escape. The others got away but they caught her when she tripped in the street. When they caught her, she identified herself as Franklin Murdock, we can't find any ID on her."

"Get her prints?" Decker asked.

"Not yet, sir."

"Well get them and let's find out who the hell she really is," Decker said as he got up from his desk, "And then bring her back here, I want to question her personally."

"Yes sir," Crane nodded.

"If she _is_ in any way connected to the A-Team, we should be able to find out before _too_ long," Decker told him, the ominous tone saying what he wasn't saying, that he had the fullest confidence in their interrogation methods. The woman apparently caught onto the subtle threat and turned her head to look back at him, but the MP pushed her forward and forced her to watch where she was going. Decker watched them disappear down the hall, right now feeling like he was on a roller coaster. First the MPs had found the A-Team, then they got away, then they said they had Murdock, only it wasn't the _right_ Murdock, all the same, something just told Decker that it wouldn't be a total loss, and the same smirk found its way back to his black and blue face.


	26. Chapter 26

Hannibal and B.A. had heard the others coming and felt relieved to know that Murdock and the others had just fallen behind somewhere. But they quickly realized that wasn't the entire situation. Mad Dog beat the brick wall behind the alley with his fists to get out his frustration as he yoyo-ed between hysteria and rage. The A-Team watched as he injured his hands and staggered away, and came back, trying to say what was raging through him but now it just came through in sobs and tears.

"Why did they have to take _her_?" he went over to Murdock and yelled at him, "Why did you _let_ them take her?"

Murdock hugged Mad Dog tightly so he couldn't get loose and hurt himself or someone else and told him, "I'm sorry, M.D., but I had to."

"What do you mean you had to?"

"If they'd caught _you_, they'd run your prints and find out you were arrested for murder and you'd go right back to jail," Murdock explained, "I could only grab one of you, so I got _you_, Frankie's got the least to lose between the two of you."

"How can you say that? Don't you know what she's already been put through?" M.D. screamed at him.

Hannibal came between them and knocked some sense into the young man, "Mad Dog, if they run Frankie's prints and they will, they're not going to come up with anything, she wasn't arrested, she wasn't even put in the hospital by a judge, her parents had her admitted, there's nothing they can do with her, they have nobody to turn her over to. She'll be alright until we can get rescue her."

This may have gotten through to Mad Dog but it didn't do his own composure any good. He buried his face in Murdock's shoulder and let out a long half muffled wail. Murdock hugged Mad Dog, this time genuinely instead of just trying to pin his arms down, and rubbed one hand around in circles on the distraught younger man's back.

"Just take it easy, Mad Dog, now listen to me," Hannibal told him, "Decker is not going to hurt Frankie, beating on a woman would be beneath even _him_."

"Are you sure?" he asked.

"Yes, believe me, she'll be alright," Hannibal said.

Murdoch took in a shaky breath and tried to pull himself together, "Alright."

"Alright, Murdock, take him for a little walk so he can clear his head, we're going to go get the van and make sure the MPs didn't try planting any bugs on it," Hannibal said.

"Sure thing, Colonel," Murdock said, he patted Mad Dog on the back and led him down the street, "Come on."

Everybody waited until the two men were out of sight and then Face asked Hannibal, "So how bad do you think it's going to be for Frankie?"

"Well, I stand by my previous statement, Decker is not going to put his hands on Frankie, that much we can be sure of," Hannibal told them.

"We don't know that the MPs won't though," Face reminded him.

"I doubt it," Hannibal insisted, "We're not quite so equalized that most people are alright yet with the idea of beating a confession out of women like they do with men. Now, since Frankie has no record, her prints are not going to come back with anything damning on her, so they can't identify her, and since they don't have a secondary authority to hand her over to, they're going to keep her with them until she tells them what they want to know about us."

"And she's not going to do that," B.A. said.

"Are you sure?" Face asked.

"Why would she?" Hannibal asked.

"Well let's face it, Hannibal, we don't know what Decker might try during his interrogation," Face said.

"What's to be worried about?" Hannibal asked, "Intelligence isn't Decker's strong suit."

"I know that's the problem," Face replied, "The man's short on conversation and overloaded on action."

* * *

Name, rank, and serial number. Those were the only things you were supposed to give when you were captured and interrogated. But Frankie had no rank or serial number, so she hadn't said anything since giving the MPs her name. She, Mad Dog, and Murdock had been running behind the others; ironic since they had been the first ones out of the restaurant. But anyway, they had been running through the street to catch up with Hannibal, Face and B.A., and Murdock had kicked a metal trashcan he hadn't seen and it fell over and tripped both Frankie and Mad Dog and they fell down. It had happened so fast Frankie hadn't even known what _had_ happened, all she knew was something happened to her legs and then she was falling and hit the uneven asphalt street underneath her. She hadn't seen anything, but she could hear both Murdock and Mad Dog, screaming and getting up, and then she heard the MPs come up behind her and grab her. They turned her over and pulled her to her feet and handcuffed her and took her back to one of their cars.

And now, here she was in the Federal Building where Decker worked, a prisoner of the MPs. They'd taken her down the hall after stopping at Decker's office and taken her handcuffs off to take her fingerprints. They were going to run them and see what they could find about her. As they did that, Frankie tried desperately to think and to remember everything that Murdock had taught her about acting insane. The first thing she remembered was him telling her _not_ to respond to anything, no matter what was going on. Unfortunately she was too nervous and too worked up not to respond. She also felt mad that she'd been caught. Maybe she should've been mad at the others for leaving her, but she knew it wasn't their fault and that it couldn't have been helped. She would much rather she be here instead of Mad Dog, if they took his prints they'd know he had been arrested and AWOL from the hospital. So right now it was all on her, she had to come up with something to do to keep these guys from finding out anything that she knew.

A light bulb went off in her head. She needed to buy some time to think, to get her act together, so she _would_ react, and she would be sick. The man called Crane and the MP who had escorted her into the room weren't paying attention to _her_, only to getting her prints. Frankie wrestled her hand out from under his grasp and pulled it back, as if being printed was hurting her. Both men grabbed her and forced her to comply with their order to take her fingerprints; and they still weren't watching _her_, so she let her mouth drop open and she breathed heavily like a panting dog. Deep breaths, shallow breaths, fast, slow, in, out, in, out, her mouth was dry, she felt hot, she rolled her eyes around and felt nauseated and dizzy. When they finally let go of her to put the cuffs back on her she collapsed to the floor and seemed to pass out. She heard Crane go to the door, open it and call out, "We need a doctor in here!"

* * *

"Well, what is it?" Decker asked when the doctor came out of the room they'd taken Frankie in so he could examine her.

"As far as I can tell, other than a little mild bruising she only seems to be suffering from slight dehydration, overheating and exhaustion," the doctor explained.

"That's all?" Decker asked.

"That's all," the doctor glared at Decker knowingly and added in a lower and more intimidating tone, "But if I have to examine her again and find any new bruises on her, I'm going to report every last man in this building."

Decker didn't take kindly to being threatened or told what he could and couldn't do and he told the doctor, "This woman is suspected of involvement with the fugitive A-Team."

The doctor snorted and replied, "I don't care if she shot both Kennedys, if you want to interrogate her, that's fine, I can't stop that, but if I even suspect the interrogation reaches a physical point, I'll personally see to it that I get your head on a silver platter, understood, Colonel?"

"Did she say anything?" Captain Crane asked.

"Not a word," the doctor answered.

Crane looked towards the room the doctor had just exited from and caught a glimpse of the girl sitting at the table. He asked the doctor, "How old would you say she is?"

"These days, who can tell? If I had to guess I'd say maybe 16, 17, maybe 18 but I wouldn't guess too likely after that," the doctor said.

"Thank you, doctor," Decker said dismissively.

* * *

Well, that had bought Frankie a little time to work out a plan. While the doctor was examining her she had a better chance to figure out what she was going to do. The only thing now was making sure that she didn't respond, that her facial expressions gave nothing away, that she remained a brick wall amidst a bunch of craziness. Right now she knew that was her only chance at getting out of here without giving away anything about the A-Team. She didn't know _what_ Decker had planned but she had already decided on what would be done; if he tortured her, if he broke the fingers on her hands, or her ribs, or any of her bones, oh yes she would scream, but she would say nothing. And if he got the bright idea to put her before a firing squad, she would go out singing.

The door opened and Decker came in. Showtime.

"In a couple of hours we're going to get the report back on your fingerprints and we're going to find out who you really are," he told her as he sat down across the table from her, "I can tell you right now it's going to go a lot easier on you if you just tell us what we want to know up front."

She could always try the 'deaf and dumb' act but that wouldn't be near as much fun as saying what she had planned. She cleared his throat and asked him, "What do you want to know?"

"For starters, how about your real name?" Decker asked.

"I told those other people already," she said.

"Franklin Murdock?"

Well it was close enough, "Yes."

Decker groaned and looked like _he_ was getting a migraine now.

"What is your connection to the A-Team?" he asked.

"Who?" Frankie asked.

Decker looked like he choked on something trying to come up and he half rose from his chair to tower over her and told her, "Now don't start playing dumb with me."

"Who's playing?" Frankie asked him innocently.

"You really mean to say you weren't with the A-Team when we caught you earlier tonight?" Decker asked.

"Who?"

"Who? Who? What are you, a damn owl?" Decker asked.

"That depends, what's it pay?" Frankie asked.

Deflecting questions with other questions, she didn't know how long she could keep that up for but she was enjoying seeing Decker slowly lose his patience with her. Slow burner nothing, this guy could burn through 10 Edgar Kennedys like they were one matchstick.

Decker leaned over and grabbed her wrist tightly and asked her, "Were you with the A-Team when they busted out of that storage garage the other day?"

"Who? What? Where?" Frankie asked, sounding even more clueless with each question. She pulled her arm loose from his grip and stood up and faced him and told him, "If I'm under arrest, I want a lawyer."

Decker laughed, no humor in it whatsoever, a laugh that for most people would be enough to turn their blood cold and freeze it in their veins. Frankie just looked at him with intrigue.

"If I find out you were acting as an accomplice with the A-Team, no lawyer is going to be able to help you," he told her.

"Oh yeah?" Frankie asked as she assumed a defensive position and placed her fists by her hips.

The door opened and Crane came in, "Colonel, may I speak with you?"

Decker turned and asked, "What is it, Crane?"

"In private, sir?" Crane gestured outside.

Decker locked Frankie in and asked, "Alright Crane, what is it?"

"Just a thought, sir, is it possible that she's one of the hostages that the A-Team had with them?" Crane asked, as Decker opened his mouth to respond, Crane reminded him, "We never found out who those people were, it's not impossible to believe that they _could_ have taken a couple of people hostage to ensure their escape, is it?"

Decker grumbled under his breath as he felt the fight leaving him, "I suppose not, all the same if she was with them _at all_, we're going to get some answers out of her."

They returned into the room and now Decker _really_ wondered what she was doing; Frankie was standing with one foot on her chair and the other on the table and her arms spread out like bird's wings and was laughing like Woody Woodpecker. Then she started singing, "That's the Woody Woodpecker song, he's a pecking it all day long," she jumped onto the table and took two large steps towards them and continued, "He pecks a few holes in a tree to see if a redwood's really red, and it's nothing to him on the tiniest whim to peck a few," she reached down and rapidly poked Decker in the head with her fingertip, "Holes in your head."

Decker slapped her hand away and barked at her, "_Get off of that table!_"

"I can't," Frankie told him.

"What do you _mean_ you can't?" Decker asked.

"Shhhh, it'll hear you," Frankie told him in a hushed whisper.

"What will?"

Frankie avoided answering that and said only, "It's down there right now, just _waiting_ for me to come down, and the second I do it's going to attack."

Frankie was just about to do a swan dive off the table and onto Decker, he closed the gap between his face and hers and asked her, "_What_ is going to attack?"

"The ammonia they use to clean the floor," Frankie explained. She'd been paying _very_ close attention to Murdock, when he spoke, she listened, and when he went off on a rampage or a tirade, she took notes. She leaned in closer to Decker's face and told him, "It lays in wait on the tiles and just _waits_ for you to step somewhere without even watching, and then it jumps up and bites, it eats through the soles of your shoes, _and_ it burns your feet," and she about shoved one of hers into his mouth to show him. Before Decker could respond, Frankie jumped off the table and onto his back and screamed, "Look out it's on the move now!"

The sudden assault took Decker by surprise and they both fell on the floor. Crane pulled Frankie off of Decker and helped the Colonel up. In those few seconds, Frankie thought back to something she'd mentioned to Murdock, a theory of her own, that when you were crazy you didn't have any sense of loyalty to anyone or anything, not the government, not your own country. And with that in mind, she thought of a couple other songs that, in most places of the world, she would probably get shot for singing, but here and now she decided she didn't have anything to lose.

She pressed herself back against the wall and randomly burst out singing as the two men in green came towards her again, "I'm a good ol' Rebel now that's just what I am, for this fair land of freedom I do not care a damn. I'm glad I fought against it, I only wished we'd won, and I don't want no pardon for anything I done. I hates the Constitution, this great Republic too, I hates the freed man's bureau in uniforms of blue, I hates the nasty eagle with all its bragging fuss, and the lying thieving Yankees I hates them even worse." Decker and Crane each grabbed a side of her and lifted her off her feet and forcibly carried her out the door and down the hall, but all the time she never quit singing that song she'd learned so many years ago from her grandmother who came from the Deep South. She remembered when her parents had caught her singing it and she remembered getting slapped for it, and as she remembered she just sang louder as they went down the corridor.

"I hates the Yankee nation and everything they do, I hates the Declaration of Independence too, I hates the glorious Union, 'tis dripping with our blood, and I hates the striped banner, I fought it all I could. I rode with Robert E. Lee for 3 years near about, got wounded in 4 places and starved at Point Lookout, I catched the rheumatism camping in the snow, but I killed a chance of Yankees and I'd like to kill some more. 300,000 Yankees lie stiff in southern dust, we got 300 thousand before they conquered us, they died of southern fever and southern steel and shot, and I wished it was 3 million instead of what we got. I can't take up my musket and fight 'em now no more, but I ain't gonna love 'em now that is certain sure, and I don't want no pardon for what I was and am, and I will not be reconstructed and I do not give a damn. I'm a good ol' Rebel, now that's just what I am, for this fair land of freedom I do not care a damn, I'm glad I fought against it I only wished we won, and I don't want no pardon for anything I done."

"Colonel," Crane said as they put her down, "You think maybe we need to get another doctor to look at her?"

"For what, a second opinion?" Decker sniped.

"No sir, maybe a psychiatric doctor," Crane told him, "She doesn't seem quite right to me."

Decker snorted and said, "After that little number I should sure as hell hope not, Crane."

Frankie turned towards Decker and spit in his eye and started belting out the chorus of another song and was actually clapping and stomping one foot in time with the beat, "And it's one, two, three, what are we fighting for? Don't ask me, I don't give a damn, the next stop is Vietnam, and it's five, six, seven, open up the pearly gates. Well there ain't no time to wonder why, whoopee, we're all gonna die!"

"You might have something there," Decker told Crane as they lifted her up again and proceeded to move her to another room.

Frankie meanwhile continued to sing and completely ignored the manhandling she was receiving, "Well come on Generals let's move fast, your big chance has come at last, gotta go out and get those Reds, the only good commie is one that's dead, and you know peace can only be won when we blow 'em all to Kingdom Come. Come on Wall Street, don't be slow, this war is a-go-go, there's plenty good money to be made by supplying the Army the tools of its trade, and just hope and pray if they drop the bomb, that they drop it on the Viet-Cong!" At face value she was as cuckoo as a clock bird but inside she had the common sense to be thankful that the A-Team wasn't here to see this demonstration; she had half a mind to shoot herself for the things she was doing but right now all that mattered was that she could keep them fooled and keep them too busy with her to go out and catch the others. In any case when it came down to it, Frankie really doubted that Decker was smart enough to be offended by anything she did here tonight.

"Well," Decker concluded as they reached the desired room and set Frankie down inside of it, "She may not be what we were looking for, but all the same I think this one belongs in the mental hospital as well. Crane, what's the nearest psychiatric ward around here?"

"That's the V.A. hospital, sir," Crane answered.

Decker took half a glance at Frankie and said dismissively, "Well she didn't come from there, that much is for sure, check with some of the other hospitals in the area and see if there's anybody missing who matches this woman's description."

"Right away, sir," Crane said as he left the room.

Decker closed the door behind him and locked it, then turned his attention back to Frankie and said, "I don't know what your game is, but one way or the other I'm going to settle my problem with you indefinitely."

"You come near me and I'll yell rape," Frankie told him, as casually as if she were giving him the weather report.

"You'll do _what_?" Decker asked, as if daring her to go through with it.

Frankie stood her ground and repeated, "I'll-yell-rape." Then she half turned and looking to the other side, said in a different tone, in a different, slightly higher pitch of voice, "And now for their next number, the Spike Jones band will present their timeless classic, 'Der Fuhrer's Face' which has been sweeping the country, and isn't it well?" Murdock had one up on her here, she couldn't do a German accent to save her life, but she proceeded anyway, "When Herr Goebbels says we own the world and space, we heil, heil!" she blew a couple of particularly wet razzberries at Decker, "Right in Herr Goebbels' face, when Herr Goring says they'll never bomb this place, we heil, heil, right in Herr Goring's face! When der Fuhrer says, we will never be slaves, we heil, heil, but still we work like slaves, while der Fuhrer brags, and lies and rants and raves, we heil, heil, and work into our graves. When der Fuhrer yells 'I gotta have more shells!' We heil! Heil! For him we make more shells, if one little shell should blow him right to," Frankie kicked the wall and continued as the song wound down and came to a close, "We heil, heil, and wouldn't that be swell?"

Decker grabbed her by her shirt and shoved her back against the wall and said to her, "I think you're faking this whole thing, I suspect that you are pretending to be insane."

"I'm _not_ insane," Frankie told him, "I am only crazy." She shoved against Decker and pushed him back and said, "The doctor I was sent to found I was suffering from lack of oxygen and carbon monoxide so he advised me to take a walk, _and I met a dog_!" she slowly sank down to all fours growling and snarling the entire time. If Decker still had his doubts about the validity of her behavior, it was momentarily masked as he took a step back from her and looked like he actually thought she was going to bite him.

And then, as unexpectedly as it had started, she stopped, and got back to her feet, and she looked around the room and whistled as if calling a dog, "Billy! Billy, where'd you go?"

"Who!?" Decker asked.

"Billy, my dog, well actually he ain't mine, I'm watching him for a friend," Frankie explained, "Oh here he comes now, Billy, get over here!"

Okay, so Decker was starting to reconsider the possibility that this could be real, if for no other reason because it was simply too exhausting to keep up with this, let alone to intentionally be doing it.

Frankie pantomimed petting a dog that it seemed had to have come up to her chest, and then she pantomimed putting a leash on him, and then her feet started fidgeting as she seemed to be struggling with the big dog, "Whoa, boy, whoa, calm down, we ain't going yet." She looked to Decker and said, "He's a nice boy, doesn't _usually_ bite until he's provoked, but ooh he can climb trees, he can WHOA!" Frankie threw herself forward as if she had suddenly been pulled off balance and seemed to be dragged along the floor a few inches before she drew her wrist back and said, "He chewed through another leash! Well, back to the drawing board."

The doorknob turned and Crane looked in but didn't stick his head in this time, "Colonel Decker, sir?"

"What now, Crane?" Decker asked.

"Just got a report back on the prints, nothing," Crane told him.

"Oh that's just _great_," Decker flatly replied, "Anything on the hospitals yet?"

"Not yet, sir, we seem to be having trouble with the phones," Crane explained.

"Well get somebody from the telephone company up here to take a look at them," Decker said, "I want to find out where this macadamia nut came from."

"I'm not a nut," Frankie insisted as she went over to Decker and poked him in the chest, "I'm a ketchup bottle, Heinz, only the best of the best around here."

Decker turned back to Crane and repeated, "Get someone up here to fix those phones, and hurry."

* * *

"Okay, Hannibal, I got it fixed so they can't make any outgoing calls, but they can receive incoming ones," B.A. said.

"That's great," Hannibal told him.

"So what're we going to do, Hannibal?" Face asked.

"The best thing we can do right now is get Decker _out_ of the building and away from Frankie," Hannibal said, "And right now the only thing that's going to do that is if he comes chasing after us."

Face started to look a little worried and he asked Hannibal, "What're you going to do, call him up and tell him where we are?"

"Something to that effect," Hannibal answered as he pinched his throat and then cleared it, "But it won't be near as fun just flat out calling him as ourselves, if we can send him on a wild goose chase as a concerned citizen who has been threatened by the A-Team…" he grinned and started to laugh at the idea.

Face was less than thrilled with it, however, "As much as I like using _any_ means necessary to make Decker look like a jackass, I still think using their own propaganda against them is going to blow up in our face someday."

"Well we'll worry about the ka-boom later, right now we've gotta get Frankie out of there," Murdock said.

"No, first we have to get Decker out of there," Hannibal corrected him, "And I think I know just _how_ to do it."

* * *

"Crane!" Decker marched down the hall and found his captain waiting for the next job.

"Yes, Colonel?"

"We're going to have to leave a couple of MPs with that woman, I just got a call from an old woman who said that the A-Team busted into her family's home, held them all at gunpoint, then smashed the place up and left, but told her they'd be back," Decker told him.

Crane nodded but his eyes narrowed into squinted slits and he said, "Sounds a bit off for the A-Team, doesn't it, sir?"

"Never put _anything_ past the A-Team, Crane, now let's go," Decker told him.

"Right, I'll get a couple MPs assigned to the holding room," he replied, "Speaking of which, did you get anything out of her?"

"That is _one_ onion I'm going to need to peel the layers back with a paring knife," Decker told him.

Crane found a couple of MPs around the corner and told them which room Frankie was being held in and said for one of them to stay with her at all times to make sure she didn't try anything. He also mentioned for one of them to take her in some water to drink to make sure they didn't have to call the doctor in again. And with that the two walked out the front door of the building and went to Decker's car.

From a distance where they couldn't be spotted, the A-Team watched them leave.

"The foxes have left the henhouse," Face said, "So now what do we do?"

"I've got it, I've got it!" Murdock told the others, "Everybody leave it to me."

"Ooh man, Lord help us all if that crazy fool's got a plan," B.A. grumbled.

Author's note: Lot of music used for this chapter and a lot of it a bit controversial, but all the same, all credit must be placed where credit is due. The songs used for this chapter were: "The Woody Woodpecker Song" created by George Tibbles and Ramey Idriss; "Unreconstructed Rebel" printed in 1914 and written by Major Innes Randolph; "I-Feel-Like-I'm-Fixin'-to-Die Rag" by Country Joe and the Fish; and "Der Fuhrer's Face", which was done by the Spike Jones band but with lyrics used from the 1943 Donald Duck cartoon of the same name. All standard disclaimers apply to each and every one: don't own, no infringement intended, etc.


	27. Chapter 27

Once Decker and Crane had left, Frankie started to calm down and she drew back into herself and started to think about what she was going to do next. Right now there wasn't a whole lot she could do because they'd left her handcuffed in an empty room. If anybody came in now there wouldn't be much she could do to them other than talk them to death.

Surprisingly, that seemed to be on the program for tonight. A young MP came in with a paper cup of water and inquired as to how she was doing. Frankie got a good feeling from this guy, so she was willing to let her guard down some. She spoke more honestly with him than she had been willing to with Decker, though she still didn't give away any incriminating or revealing details, which oddly enough worked out just fine because he didn't seem to be digging for any. Through a little effort, Frankie managed to grab the cup and drink the water. The MP stayed and chatted it up with Frankie, and if truth be told she was starting to enjoy it. It was nice having _somebody_ around here to talk to who didn't spit in her face demanding answers he wasn't going to get.

After a while, Frankie got curious and asked the MP, "Hey, what happened to that blowhard?"

"You mean Colonel Decker?"

"Well I don't mean Sergeant Guedo," she replied.

"He went out, got a tip on where the A-Team is."

Frankie remained unresponsive outwardly to this news but inside she could feel a familiar 'uh-oh' tugging at the back of her mind. Instead she just smiled and asked the MP, "He do this often? Drag in random people just for the hell of it saying they're in cahoots with the A-Team?"

"No, actually, I think you're the first," he told her.

Frankie managed a very cynical grin and said, "Well it's always nice to be unique."

Meanwhile, another incoming call rang through and another MP on duty answered it.

"This is Colonel Decker," the gruff voice on the other end of the line said, "You still have that woman in custody?"

"Yes sir, Colonel," the MP answered.

"Fine, let her go."

The MP did a double take at the receiver, "Let her go?"

"You heard me, now you release that woman or I'm going to come back there and bust you down to your socks, you got that?"

The MP saluted and said, "Yes sir, Colonel Decker, right away, sir."

Anxiously, the young man hung up the phone and ran to the holding room and informed the other MP of the colonel's order. It didn't make much sense to Frankie, but she was taking this as a good thing. She smiled at the MP who got the key to unlock her handcuffs and she told him, "Sorry to run out on you like this, but I _do_ have a previous engagement."

"We'll escort you to the exit," the first MP told her.

Frankie didn't feel convinced about this whole scenario; she couldn't believe that that pighead Decker would just order them to let her go, but who was she to argue? She kept her mouth shut until they reached the doors leading out of the building and she told the MPs, "This has certainly been an interesting night…I may have to do something for your Colonel Decker someday," as she walked out the door she added under her breath, "Or _to_ him."

Now that she was out in the open again, Frankie resumed being alert and aware for anything out of the ordinary; she looked up and down the property and the street and listened for the sound of anybody nearby. By now it was beyond dark outside so she could only make out outlines of things in the dark and if they moved. She heard people and saw a few MPs walking up to the building but other than that Frankie didn't see anyone. So, convinced that it was safe, she stepped down the stairs and slowly made her way out towards the street.

Revenge was a very time consuming hobby, the actual execution of a plan took a very short amount of time, it was all the plotting that put it all together and into action that took so long. Frankie had spent three years plotting revenge for one man, but given the treatment she'd faced tonight, she was starting to consider adding another name to her list. That little power hungry fruitcake, Decker, ooh she was going to have to think of something particularly nasty for him. It hadn't been a consciously premeditated move to slash Lynch's chest open when she had him at her mercy back at the airport, but it had been necessary and it had worked, unfortunately they just traded up from one idiot to a slightly more competent one. On one hand she hated to think if something were to happen to Decker _who_ could possibly be brought in to replace him, but for the moment it wasn't something that she even _could_ think about. All she could think about was a way to get _this_ colonel off the A-Team's trail as well. Hannibal had said something about Decker being very good at what he did back in the jungle, somehow she didn't get the idea that he was a very primitive type of person. Without his guns and his authority she really doubted he'd be in much position to do anything. So then, Frankie thought, it was just a matter of taking those away from him, but how?

She'd let her guard down long enough to not pay attention to where she was going and she bumped into an MP coming her way. She started to say "excuse me" when the man grabbed her arm and told her, "You'll be coming with me, miss."

"What?" she asked.

The M.P. raised his helmet so she could see his face clearer, even in the dark she was able to see it was Hannibal in disguise.

"Come on," he murmured as he pulled her off to one of the MP sedans by the curb.

"You did this," Frankie realized, "You were the one who called Decker out."

"You got it," Hannibal said as he opened the back door of the car and let her in. Frankie squeezed into the backseat between Face and Murdock. Face had been crouched down in the backseat so he wouldn't be seen, but Murdock had also been dressed up as an MP. Mad Dog sat in the front beside Hannibal, he turned to see Frankie and reached his hand out to grab hers, "Frankie, you alright?"

"Oh sure, I'm fine," she said, "They couldn't do anything with me."

"Are you sure?" he asked.

"Yeah," Frankie turned to Murdock and told him, "Your advice worked _great_, Murdock."

"What advice?" Hannibal asked.

"Murdock was giving me pointers earlier on how to convince people I was insane, and I think they bought it," Frankie explained. She leaned over to the front seat and asked Hannibal, "So how'd you get the MPs to let me go?"

"That wasn't me," Hannibal told her, and jerked a thumb back to the captain behind him.

Frankie looked to Murdock who smiled and said in a gruff voice, "This is Colonel Decker, release that prisoner right now!"

Frankie looked to Murdoch in the front seat and said with a surprised look on her face, "He sounds almost exactly _like_ Decker."

Murdock laughed and hugged Frankie and said, "And now when the _real_ Decker gets back he's going to see somebody has played him for a _codfish_."

"You are a genius, Murdock I could kiss you," Frankie said.

Murdock put his hands on her and said, "Not _me_," and pushed her over to Mad Dog, "Kiss him, he's your boyfriend."

"Where's B.A.?" Frankie asked.

"Back with the van, we could only squeeze so many people in here," Hannibal told her.

"Speaking of which, how _did_ you get an MP car?" Frankie asked.

"We didn't," Hannibal said, "We just did a rush custom job on a police car from the movie studio."

Frankie's eyes widened at that revelation and she laughed as they sped out of there. Then another thought occurred to her and she stopped laughing and fell back in her seat and said grimly, "We lost Masterson."

"Yeah I know," Hannibal replied from the driver's seat, "Minor setback, we'll just have to go back to his place and wait for him to come home again. I'm guessing he will, we checked his closet, his clothes are still there."

A disturbing thought occurred to Frankie and she reached over to the front seat again and tapped Hannibal on his helmet and asked him, "Why did you get me out of there? Because you were worried I'd talk?"

"No," Hannibal said as he took his cigar out of his mouth and held it in one hand and steered with the other, "Because if we didn't, your boyfriend over there would never let us get any sleep tonight."

Frankie moved back and slowly nodded, apparently that was an acceptable answer.

"Uh-oh!" Face exclaimed as he noticed a car very similar to the one they were driving coming up the opposite side of the road and it did a sharp U turn and came at them.

"Well that couldn't have been timed any better, could it?" Murdock asked.

"Hang on," Hannibal told them as he buried the accelerator to the floor.

"What're you going to do?" Frankie asked.

"We're gonna try and lose them," Hannibal answered calmly as the car swerved and went off the main road.

Frankie looked back and saw the other car in hot pursuit with its lights on and they could hear the siren wailing.

"Well this ought to wake everybody up," Face dryly remarked to mask his growing anxiety.

Frankie bit down on the tips of two of her fingers as she watched the car speed up and start to catch up with them. She glanced over to Murdock and noticed the bulge under his jacket, his gun, if she could only grab it fast enough maybe she could…but Frankie knew that wasn't possible. Even if they might have the same views about Decker she knew there was no way they'd let her pull off anything that involved him. The car swerved again and everybody got thrown against everybody else and Frankie, in one split second, saw her opportunity, she reached over and pulled Murdock's gun out, in the confusion he didn't even seem to notice. Everybody heard one shot ring out from behind them, and then everybody heard a much louder shot ring out from the backseat of their own car.

Face and Murdock covered their heads and pushed forward as a hole was blown through the back window of the car. Frankie, backward in the backseat, leaned forward towards the window she'd just shot through and proceeded to empty the clip as she fired back at Decker's car.

"What the hell are you doing!?" Face demanded once he realized what was going on, he grabbed the gun with both hands over hers and struggled with her and told her, "Give me that!"

Murdock chanced a look back and pointed, "Hey, look!"

Face looked and saw Decker's car skid to the side and come to a sudden stop.

"She must've got one of the tires," Murdock said.

"Dumb luck," Face said over his fuming, he jerked the gun out of Frankie's gasp so hard he about pulled her hands off.

"Exactly what the hell _were_ you thinking, Frankie?" Hannibal asked, seemingly unfazed by what they'd just been through but his men knew him better than that.

Frankie heard the question but didn't really acknowledge it. Instead she just looked out the back window and looked back at her handiwork.

"Well," she finally said, her voice distant and vague, "At least we're getting away from them."

Face and Murdock looked to each other both wearing the same confused and worried expression on their faces. Mad Dog also bore a similar look, Hannibal glanced at the rear view mirror but otherwise kept his eyes on the road straight ahead and seemed unmoved by what had just happened. He wasn't known for being an easy person to read and that's how he preferred it, helped to get the drop on people in situations like this.

* * *

It had been decided that Frankie had to be temporarily put out of commission so they knew they didn't have to worry about her getting any new ideas; they hadn't gotten any straight answers out of her about why she had tried shooting Decker, and it seemed to Hannibal that they weren't going to. Not tonight anyway, not while she was as wired as she was. He figured after a solid night's sleep she might come around the next morning and explain herself better after she'd been subjected to a forced rest. Of course pinning her down and jabbing her with a needle full of B.A.'s knockout drug, efficient though it may have been, was strongly decided against. Instead Hannibal took a couple of the knockout pills and crushed them into a drink for Frankie. Like clockwork, a few minutes after she swallowed it she was knocked out. And, though it wasn't viewed as _quite_ a pressing matter, they decided it would be best to do the same with Mad Dog, they didn't need him getting any bright ideas either and they also didn't need him sitting up all night worrying about Frankie. Soon both of them were out cold and side by side in the back of B.A.'s van.

"So what're we going to do now, Hannibal?" Face asked.

"Nothing changes," Hannibal explained, "We're going to watch Masterson's house until he returns, when he does we're going to bug his car, we have to pick a time when we _know_ he's not going to be coming back to get that server out for the police. If we get a confession out of Masterson, that's good, but if we can supply the cops with the murder weapon, that ought to _really_ cement it, and I want to catch this guy when he's _least_ expecting it, we can get the drop on him, not the other way around."

"Assuming he ain't got rid of it already," B.A. pointed out.

"Unlikely, B.A.," Hannibal said as he shook his head, "Masterson doesn't know anybody's been in his home, he has no reason to suspect his cover's about to be blown, he'd have no reason to get rid of it now."

"Except now he _knows_ Frankie's out of the hospital, she could talk," Face reminded him.

"She could've talked at any time for the three years _before_ she got put in the hospital, Masterson knows nobody would believe her," Hannibal insisted, "He's not worried about that."

"Sucker's gonna have plenty to worry about by the time _I_ get done with him," B.A. said.

Hannibal caught a glimpse of Murdock standing off to the side, the pilot had his hands shoved deep into his jacket pockets and had a grim look on his face.

"Something wrong, Captain?" Hannibal asked.

"What're we going to do with them?" Murdock asked, nodding his head towards the van.

Hannibal's facial expression softened slightly as he took the cigar out of his mouth and asked the pilot, "You got any ideas, Murdock?"

"All due respect, Colonel…I think Frankie's close to a psychiatric break."

"A break?" Face repeated confusedly, "As in 'through' or 'down'?"

Murdock whistled and twirled his finger straight down by way of answering.

"I see," Face glumly replied.

"I'd feel better if we could get her in to see Dr. Richter," Murdock said, "But I…I don't think…" the pilot was struggling to explain what he was thinking, "First thing's gotta be first, Colonel, and that has to be the fall of this guy's empire, and she has to be a witness to that, that…that will help speed the healing process along, for both of them."

Hannibal nodded understandingly and responded, "So noted, Captain, but from now one we're going to have to keep a closer eye on both of them."

Murdock nodded sadly and said, "I know." He tried perking up his expression and opened his puppy dog eyes wider, but it only made him look even more haunted by the facts at hand as he explained, "It's my family, Colonel, my responsibility."

"No one is disputing that, Murdock, but I think you're going to need help, they _do_ have you outnumbered," Hannibal reminded him.

Again, Murdock only nodded in acknowledgment, and his silence was worse than anything he could've said. Face saw all of this and felt like he was standing near the blasting area and somebody had one foot on the plunger.

* * *

Frankie heard the sound of people's breathing and snoring and she woke up. It was still dark out, but they were _in_ somewhere. She tried sitting up and realized she, Mad Dog and Murdock were all asleep in the back of the van on the floor. Hannibal, B.A. and Face weren't anywhere to be seen, not from where she laid anyway. She tried getting up without waking the others. She was no idiot, she knew that Hannibal had laced her drink, that's why she had spat half of it out when he wasn't watching. Mad Dog wasn't as fortunate, he would be out for a while still…that just left Murdock to get past. She tested him, she nudged him with her foot, poked him on his shoulder, nothing, she tried pushing him, he just rolled over onto his side and resumed snoring.

That just left the matter of the others, Hannibal, B.A. and Face, how would she ever be able to get past them? They had to be out there somewhere, and they'd hear or see something if she tried making a break for it. Still, it was something that she had to try. She got up on her knees and reached to open the back doors of the van. To do so quietly was no easy task, but she did, and worked one door open and slowly slipped out and looked around.

It was dark but the moon was out, she didn't see Hannibal or Face or B.A. anywhere, though she thought if she held her breath long enough that she could hear them off in a distance somewhere. If she left now, they'd never be able to catch her, not in time to stop her anyway. She closed the door about as quietly as she opened it and took off in the direction off from the voices. Once she was sure she was far enough away they couldn't see her, she started running.

They were already back in her hometown, it was a very short trip to reach her home. She stopped in the middle of the street in front of the house she had left two months ago and looked at it. From the outside nothing seemed to have changed, there were no lights on so she couldn't see inside; no doubt at this time of night everybody was asleep, it had to be going on 3 in the morning. Frankie walked up to the curb, up the sidewalk and went around to the back porch, this was the door they often forgot to lock at night since it couldn't be seen from the street. Opening and closing the kitchen door had never been a task that could be performed quietly, still, they were upstairs, the windows were closed, what would they hear?

The kitchen was dark but not completely. There was a small light kept on over the sink, it helped her to see that nothing here had changed since she last saw it either. Frankie knew what she had come here for. She went over to the sink and opened a drawer underneath the countertop. Simultaneously, she looked to the ceiling above her, as if trying to listen for her parents, or as if trying to see them through the ceiling. When she got what she had come here for, she was going to go upstairs and pay them a little visit that they'd _never_ forget. She had almost grabbed what she was reaching for when she heard a car outside. Curiously, she shut the drawer and sneaked back out the door and took a look around front. There she could see Decker's car stopping, and he and Crane were getting out. Well, Frankie thought with a grin, now it was time for Act II. She smiled like a maniac and swaggered around front to meet the two men.

"Hello again," she said cheerily.

The two men jerked around at the sudden presence of another person and Decker looked like he wanted to kill her, "You!"

"Yeah," Frankie smugly replied as she walked over to him, "Me, in the flesh, and thankfully not nude." She wasn't finished with him yet, she still had a few tricks up her sleeve in the way of an insanity act, and she was going to use them here and now.

"How did you get out of custody?" Decker wanted to know.

Frankie grinned as she folded her arms and told him, "I whittled a gun out of soap and painted it with black shoe polish and tricked the guard into letting me out."

"Crazy, you really are," Decker noted.

"You don't know the half of it," she said as she went over to him, and suddenly it was like she was channeling Murdock again, "We are also immune to fear; we cannot connect emotionally to the concept of cerebral damage."

Decker wasn't amused, "What are you doing here?"

"Well I thought I could smell something burning so I thought I'd see what's on your mind," Frankie said, "And my guess is nothing much. Looking for someone? Someone besides me?"

"For once you're right," he said.

Frankie nodded condescendingly and said, "Let me just take a guess, shall I?" She stood facing them with her feet as far apart as her shoulders, getting ready for a fight, she spoke slowly, leaving a gap between each word as if it was a command, "Operational – Detachment – Alpha." She laughed maniacally at the look on Decker's face when she said that, and added, "Say hello to Operational Detachment Bravo. The B-Team is the support team and that's what I'm here for." She slowly inched her way closer to Decker and told him, "You try going after the A-Team again and you're going to have more trouble than you can handle."

For some reason Frankie didn't remember being this much shorter than Decker, but it was like he was King Kong towering over her, and he must've noticed this too because for one fleeting instance a sense of humor seemed to overtake him and he asked her, "You going to come up here and say that to me?"

Frankie got on her toes to get as close to in his face as she could and told him, "Nope, you're gonna come down here," and she kneed him in the groin. Decker doubled over and Frankie took advantage of it and latched onto him; she grabbed one shoulder and one side of his face and leaned in and bit his nose. Decker screamed in pain and quicker than they could see, Frankie let go of him and grabbed the gun out of his pocket and held it on them.

"Drop your weapon," she told Crane, "And if _either_ of you are carrying a second gun, drop that too and kick it over, now or I shoot."

Crane put his gun down and kicked it over, Frankie picked it up and pocketed it and told them both to put their hands up.

"Forget it," Decker told her.

Frankie laughed and told him in response, "You _really_ picked the wrong crazy to mess with, you know that, Decker? You think that Captain Howling Mad Murdock is a person of interest, somebody you ought to concern yourself with, that the A-Team is a bunch of somebodies you need to chase after?" She spat at him, "You know nothing, you don't know what dangerous is."

"And I suppose you're going to say that you're it?" he asked.

"You got it," she said as she aimed the gun towards him, "You know they busted me out of a crazy hospital _just_ like Murdock? Only the one they had me in was for the criminally insane, and they _didn't_ put me away on some petty charge like million dollar bank robbery like those Alpha boys you're hunting."

"Oh?" Decker felt like testing the waters, and his luck, "And _what_ were you put away for?"

"Murder!" Frankie told him, "I got the greatest criminal mind that ever existed and I've always used it to my advantage, I've got more dead bodies under my belt than a VC sniper, and I _know_ that you can appreciate what that means. I'm well trained in _all_ the arts of murder, it's just a matter of which one I'll be using on you two tonight."

They didn't seem to react much but Frankie was able to see she had both of them right where she wanted them, it almost seemed too good to be true. Decker moved to grab a second gun he had on him and Frankie fired at him.

* * *

Frankie wasn't sure _what_ it was that woke her up but as soon as it did, she was furious to find that it had only been a dream. She was back at the van, on its floor with Murdoch and Murdock. Realizing that it _had_ just been a dream, Frankie felt like somebody let the hot air out of her balloon and she felt worse _now_ than when she'd gone to sleep last night. She pulled herself up to a sitting position and tried to realize what had just happened.

"You alright, Frankie?" Mad Dog asked.

She shook her head from side to side to loosen out a kink in her neck and she rubbed one eye as she started to fully awaken. She looked and saw he had also just gotten up, but was still lying on the floor, and looked just about as confused as she did.

"Yeah," she tiredly responded. She wasn't about to go into the details of that dream with him.

"You have weird dreams too?" he asked.

She might've known. "Yeah," she quietly told him.

"What about?" Mad Dog asked.

What could she tell him? She smiled down at him and cupped his chin in her hand and she told him, "I dreamt that we were married."

He choked on a laugh and said, "I guess Murdock's really getting to us."

"I think they all are," Frankie replied as she looked and saw Face and B.A. were asleep in the front of the van, "I think they _all_ are." She moved to the door and told him, "I'm gonna get some air."

Stepping outside Frankie could see that it was light out and the sun was just starting to rise off in the distance east.

"Morning," Hannibal said as he came up to her.

"Morning," she tiredly replied, "He ever come home?"

"Yeah, we got his car bugged," Hannibal answered, "As soon as the others wake up we can leave…you doing better today?"

"I guess so," she said, "Hey look, Hannibal, I'm sorry about what I did last night."

Hannibal seemed dismissive about it and only replied, "Once in a lifetime opportunity, I guess you had to take it."

"I guess I'm finally going crazy," Frankie said.

"Masterson's making you crazy," Hannibal corrected her.

"He's gaslighting me without even trying," she realized.

Hannibal was nothing if not sympathetic it seemed. He spoke to her in a lower tone than usual, like a father assuring his kid that there wasn't anything hiding under the bed trying to kill them. "His luck's just about run out, we're going to get him and we're going to make sure he never sees the light of day again."

Frankie nodded sadly and replied, "I hope so, Hannibal, I'd hate for everything I've done up till now to be for nothing, just to lose everything that ever meant anything to me, my mind included."

Hannibal nodded in response and said, "His time's almost here. Now come on, let's go get the others up."


	28. Chapter 28

Hannibal had known from the time everybody got up that morning that there was something wrong with Murdock, something more than usual. He went through the day looking like a zombie and just seemed to be functioning on autopilot. If Face and B.A. noticed it they didn't say anything, but Hannibal wondered how they _couldn't_ notice it. All day long he seemed drawn into himself, like he hid himself behind something he'd built up in front of himself to protect him from the others; he didn't want the others to be able to read them, but he also didn't think that they could, or he just didn't care. If he did, he would've tried to cover it by acting like his 'normal' self. But today, there was no talking to Billy, or to any bugs, invisible or otherwise, no cartoon voices, no foreign accents, no randomly bursting into song, and no mention of subjects like Bigfoot, golf balls, trash bags, or ammonia. It worried Hannibal. Finally after lunch he took the captain aside to have a few words with him.

"Is there something you'd like to tell me, Murdock?" he asked.

Murdock kept his gaze about a foot lower than Hannibal's eyes and seemed to genuinely be considering the question. Despite sleeping most of the night, he had dark rings starting to form under his eyes and it was making him look the part of a zombie.

"Something troubling you, Captain?" Hannibal asked.

Now Murdock looked up at him, "Yeah, I guess so, Colonel."

Hannibal looked over to Frankie and Mad Dog, who seemed to be doing alright today. They didn't exactly have any place to go or that they needed to be so they decided to stay out in the open incase Decker would track them down again so they could make a quick escape. They'd parked the van close to a park that nobody was frequenting today, Face had gone to a diner in town and came back with sandwiches, chips and sodas for lunch and they'd eaten at one of the park's picnic tables that was overdue for a couple new shades of paint, and some new screws to hold it together. Hiding in plain sight, something Hannibal was good at, and so far they seemed to be doing alright here. Nobody saw them, nobody was around to hear them, it was just the six of them and the wide open space covered with green grass, full bloom flowers, and a bunch of trees that were most likely already 50 years old when all of them were kids. There wasn't much of anything to do there except check the monitor to see if Masterson was on the move or not, and walk around the park in circles. M.D. and Frankie had currently chosen the latter, though they were too far off to hear distinctly, Hannibal could hear them laughing as they talked about something. He also noticed that Murdock was watching them just as intently.

"About them?" Hannibal asked.

Murdock lowered his gaze to the grass and replied, "About _her_."

Hannibal looked back at Frankie and didn't see anything at face value that seemed worthy of alarm, "What about her?"

Murdock kicked a pebble in the middle of the grass and explained, "When she _does_ go to see Dr. Richter, or _any_ doctor for that matter, it's very likely that she _will_ be committed, for real this time."

"Certifiably," Hannibal realized.

"Yeah," Murdock said, "She'll probably go away for a few months at least, she needs a lot of help."

"And like you said before," Hannibal guessed, "No trips outside."

"No," Murdock agreed, "I know we gotta do it, Hannibal, and I'll agree to be the one that takes her in…but, since we're already outside, can't I take her somewhere, show her one last good time before she has to go in to the hospital?"

Hannibal considered it and asked him, "Where?"

"I don't know, but anything's gotta be better than going in circles around here with all of us."

"What about Mad Dog?" Hannibal asked.

"He won't go back to the hospital most likely, his traumas are something that can be dealt with as an out-patient," Murdock said, "He can stay here with Face and the angry mudsucker, that way I only have to watch one person, I can't be outnumbered that way."

"Hmm," Hannibal thought about it, "That's certainly true…alright, but you'll take a walkie-talkie with you, and if _anything_ happens, report back to us."

Murdock nodded, "I will, Colonel." His overall spirit seemed to have picked up a little, but there was no giveaway of this indicated on his face. Hannibal _still_ wasn't sure about this, but apparently this meant a lot to the captain, and he could certainly understand it. He knew that Murdock had taken a long time to get adapted to life at the V.A. and it was several months before he finally started to feel at home there and actually enjoy it, if _anybody_ could actually enjoy living at the V.A., Hannibal still had his doubts about that.

Hannibal watched Murdock go over to the other two and steal Frankie away from her boyfriend and he watched the two of them walk down the road, practically hand in hand. It might've been a touching sight, but Hannibal couldn't help feeling the least bit suspicious. He inhaled on his cigar and crossed his arms as he watched them disappear from sight, and he couldn't help wondering about the captain's true motives. Somehow, Hannibal just couldn't shake the feeling that Murdock might just help his cousin, feeling a sense of familial responsibility and guilt, to escape if things went south. He'd like to think he knew Murdock better than that, but a sinking feeling in his gut told Hannibal that if Frankie did something now, if she snapped, if she lashed out and attacked somebody, _anybody_, innocent or guilty, that Murdock would help her disappear, least of all from the A-Team's reach. It wasn't something he enjoyed considering but he was starting to realize just how likely it could be. She was already out for blood, and if she sank her teeth in and drew back a mouthful of O+, as much as it killed Hannibal to admit, he could just see Murdock helping her to elude retribution.

Hannibal tried to ignore the feeling of a million pins and needles drilling their way up and down his back. He'd never before had any reason to doubt _any_ of his men, not even Murdock, not even with all his eccentricities and psychoses…now every fiber of him was telling him to keep an eye on his captain, to shadow him to make sure nothing was being plotted under his nose. With a strength he never before had known he'd possessed or had to test, he forced himself to forget what his gut was telling him; never before had he _ever_ doubted any of his men, and if he did that now, if he questioned their trust, they would have every reason to question _his_, and a Team that couldn't trust its leader could never function. He never had any reason to question Murdock's loyalty in the 15 years he'd known the man, and he wasn't about to start now.

* * *

Getting Frankie away from the others, if anything, had only made her own disposition worse, once they left the park she started to look like Murdock had earlier. They walked until they were back in a suburban area and as they went down the street, Frankie looked to him and said out of nowhere, "You know something, don't you?"

Murdock turned to her and looked genuinely surprised, "What're you talking about, cous? You know I don't know anything."

"Yes you do, and you know it's something bad, and you know it's about me, and _that's_ why we're here, isn't it?" Frankie asked.

Hmmm, so he was going to have to work on that, he was starting to become readable. Maybe next time, Murdock thought, he ought to work on making himself invisible, because you can't read something you can't see.

"I wanted to talk with you and I wanted to do it without the others listening in," he explained, he reached over and squeezed her hand gently and told her, "I like you, Frankie, but I know that you know you're gonna need to get some help when this is over."

Frankie opened and closed her mouth through gritted teeth as she sucked in a short breath, "You're gonna have me put away?"

Murdock was starting to get worried, turning himself invisible might not be enough. "You got a lot of issues you need help addressing, dealing with Masterson ain't gonna make them all go away, it will some of them, but you still need to see somebody who knows about this stuff, and it takes a while…it won't be like prison, let me talk to Dr. Richter, he can find somebody at someplace you can go to see."

"They can't help me," Frankie shook her head, "_Nobody_ can help me." Before Murdock had a chance to say anything in response, she said to him, "Murdock, if anything happens to me, I want you to promise me that you'll look after Mad Dog for me."

Any discussion that went like _that_ never ended well. He stopped walking and pulled her back towards him and he asked her, "What do you mean by that?"

Frankie shrugged and told him, "Just that I may not be around for a while when this is done…" almost as an afterthought she said, "After all if I _do_ go into the hospital, they'll keep me locked in there for a while."

Murdock decided at the moment, it was better to say less, he reached over, placed his hands against Frankie's temples, kissed her on the forehead and told her, "It's going to be alright, Frankie cous, I give you my word as a mental patient."

Frankie looked straight ahead, a blank expression on her face, and she replied, "I'll just like it when this whole thing's over."

Murdock reached over and placed his hand on the side of her head and pulled her towards him to rest her head against his shoulder as he momentarily stroked her head. Then he pulled back and told her, "Of course you realize, we're going to have to find _some_ way to get Mad Dog away from the others if our plan's going to work."

"Got any ideas?" she asked.

"I'm working on it," he said, "Come on."

"Where're we going?"

Murdock pointed to a building down on the next block, a theater, "How 'bout a movie?"

"Why not?" Frankie asked, "Probably be the last one I see outside of a schizo room for a long time."

* * *

"Hannibal, the screen shows that Masterson's car is still at the house," Face said, "Now Frankie never said anything about what days this guy stays home, you think he's actually still there or do you think there's a chance he found the tracking device and got rid of it?"

"Well I know one way to find out," Hannibal said as he thumped through a large volume of the telephone directory.

"What're you doing?" Face asked.

Hannibal ignored the question and puffed on his cigar as he ran a gloved finger down the line, "M…Mabbitt, Macadam…Malcolm, Mallender, Mansfield…Martinez, Massey, Masson…Masterson, here we go, Richard Masterson." He kept one finger on the page and with the other hand picked up the van's mobile phone and dialed the number in the book.

"Hannibal, what're you doing?" Face tried again.

"Only one way to see if our friend Masterson is at home," Hannibal said, and a second later his eyes lit up and he got a weird smile on his face as he said into the telephone receiver, "Hello, would you be interested in buying a set of encyclopedias? No? Okay, thank you, sir." He hung up the phone and told the others, "Well we know he's there, I doubt he could've found out about the car, let alone this quickly."

"So now we just have to find a way to get him out of the house and _keep_ him out," Face said.

"How're you going to do that?" Mad Dog asked.

"We'll get to that soon enough," Hannibal told him, "First of all we're going to have a little fun at his expense. Turnabout _is_ fair play after all." He consulted his watch and told the others, "We'll give it about 20 minutes, and then Masterson is going to get a very unusual phone call regarding the not so late Alice Arden."

Mad Dog looked at the three members of the A-Team in complete and total curiosity and suspicion. Were they really going to be able to pull this off? Apparently they'd find out in a few minutes.

"Are you sure this is going to work?" he asked Hannibal a few minutes before the colonel made the call.

"Something's going to," Hannibal answered.

"But you're sure he won't recognize it's you?"

"Why should he?" Hannibal asked, "Until 20 minutes ago the man and I had never spoken to one another." All the same he wrapped an old rag around the mouthpiece of the receiver before he redialed the number, and signaled for everybody else to be quiet. The others practically held their breath as they heard the phone ringing.

"_Hello?"_

Hannibal smirked and said into the phone in a low, gravelly voice, "Masterson…"

"_Who is this?"_

"I know what you did to Alice Arden."

There was a slight pause on the other end of the line, _"What do you mean?"_

"Masterson…you might be interested to know that Alice is _not_ resting peacefully, she's here, and she's anxious to see you again."

"_What are you talking about?"_

"She's here with us, and she has big plans for you, she says that she's going to come back and see you _really_ soon." Hannibal laughed ominously and then disconnected the call.

"Well that ought to get the little gears turning in his head," Face said.

"Think he'll believe it?" Mad Dog asked.

"Even if he doesn't, he knows that there's somebody out there who can tie him in with the murder, that's got to be making him panic right about now," Hannibal explained.

"Yeah, but what'll we do now, Hannibal?" B.A. asked.

"Oh, I'd say we wait a couple of hours and call again," Hannibal said, "Eventually, if this guy operates like I think he does and I think he _does_ operate like I think he does…"

"Did you get that?" Face asked Mad Dog.

"Nope."

"_Then_," Hannibal continued, ignoring them, "Eventually when we call he's going to see if he can work out a deal, pay whoever the mysterious caller is to go away and forget about his involvement with the murder."

"And that's when we step in?" Mad Dog asked.

"No…that's when we agree to meet him, lure him out of the house and get the server," Hannibal said, "If he thinks he's being watched he won't dare try taking it with him, if he would happen to be caught with the murder weapon on him, then he knows he'd fry."

It sounded like a great plan, but Mad Dog still wanted to be able to meet up with Murdock and Frankie for their other plan. But _how_ were they going to pull it off now?"

* * *

As they left the theater, Murdock froze in his tracks and started squawking frantically like a chicken on caffeine.

"What is it?" Frankie asked.

"Look," Murdock pointed and Frankie saw an MP car parked out by the curb. More specifically, it was _Decker's_ car and he and Crane were there talking amongst themselves.

"How'd they find out we were here?" Frankie asked.

"They couldn't have, Decker would have no problem interrupting a movie," Murdock told her, and grabbed her and started to inch away around the corner.

"So now what do we do?" Frankie asked him.

Murdock wrapped his hand around hers and said, "We gotta get word back to Hannibal…we gotta warn them incase Decker can pick the trail we came from."

They turned to head around to the next corner and see if there was a payphone but doubled back when they saw another MP car and two more men in green over there.

"This is getting ridiculous," Murdock noted.

Frankie felt her heart in her throat and she was finding it hard to breathe, but she told Murdock, "I've got an idea, I'm going to try something, you stay out of sight."

"Frankie, what're you going to do?"

"Murdock, trust me, please," she said.

He didn't like it, but he complied with her wishes. He backed himself into a gap between two buildings on the block and watched from the shadows as Frankie went back around to Decker's car. By now the crowd had scattered and most people had gone back home or wherever they spend their afternoons, so the block was largely empty and right now it just seemed to be the three of them, no witnesses.

"Well fancy running into you here," she said.

Both men looked at her and Decker looked surprised, but quickly recovered. "What're you doing here?"

"I came to see the movie," she pointed to the theater, "How about you? Did you come to see if you qualify for the senior citizen ticket discount?"

Decker walked over to her and hovered over her and said, "You've got a lot of nerve coming around here, _how_ did you get out of the Federal Building?"

"Why, _your_ men walked me to the front door," Frankie explained, "They said you called and told them to let me go."

"I never did _any_ such thing," Decker told her.

"So you're saying somebody else called up the Federal Building pretending to be you, and fooled everybody working there?" Frankie laughed hard and said, "That's the funniest thing I've heard since Fonzie said he was going to fall on his snails. How could _anybody_ possibly convincingly sound like you?"

"I can take a few guesses," he told her, "And they all involve the A-Team."

"Again with this A-Team," Frankie said, "You're chasing your tail over a myth, a group of men who don't exist."

"Oh I know they exist, and what more I'm convinced that you are working with them," Decker grabbed two fistfuls of her T-shirt so she couldn't get away and added, "And now that I've got you, I'm going to bring them in and put them on the first plane heading back to Fort Bragg…" a sickening grin formed on his face and he concluded, "And when that happens, life is going to be good."

"Yeah? Well not from _this_ side of your face," Frankie told him, "Don't you ever brush your teeth?"

Decker let go of her with such force that he about knocked her down, and he started to growl at her like B.A. growled when the others made a joke he didn't find funny. Frankie reached into her pocket before he could notice, and when he moved towards her again, she used her free hand to clamp down on his nose. On a pure instinct, Decker opened his mouth to breathe and Frankie shoved the spout of a small spray bottle in and pressed the button, releasing whatever was in the bottle. Crane moved to ambush her, but he found himself ambushed as Murdock jumped him from behind and put him in a sleeper hold. Crane passed out and Decker joined him a few seconds later and both men fell to the sidewalk.

"What did you do to him?" each asked the other.

"I put him in a sleeper hold, what did _you_ do?" Murdock asked, "What's in that bottle?"

Frankie showed it to him and said, "I stole it from Face. I overheard him say this was the _new_ way they could knock B.A. out before a flight, whatever they give him, they put it in a breath freshener bottle."

"Very ingenuous," Murdock noted as he took the radios from both men and stomped them to pieces, "But now we gotta get out of here."

Frankie looked down at the two men and dropped down beside Crane's body and rifled through his pockets, and quickly came up with a set of car keys.

"Ask and ye shall receive," Murdock said as they ran to Decker's car.

Frankie hopped into the driver's seat and said as they got ready to peel out, "I love driving, and this could very well be the last time I do."

"Greatest ride is the last ride!" Murdock yelled to be heard over the roar of the engine as they sped out of there.

"Well we lost them," Frankie said when they got a few blocks and twists and turns away, "But now what do we do?"

"I've got an idea," Murdock told her, and picked up the car radio microphone. As Decker, he barked out a bunch of orders and directions for all MP cars to follow in pursuit of the A-Team, and once he had them off on a wild goose chase, he picked up the car phone instead and dialed the number to the van's mobile phone.

"Hello?" Hannibal answered.

"Hannibal, there's bad news, Decker and his little green men are in the area and they're heading your way, you gotta get out of there now!"

"Where are you?"

"Don't worry, we're fine, they can't find us," Murdock assured him, "But you guys better get out of there before the army parade shows up." With that, he hung up the phone.

"You think that's going to work?" Frankie asked.

"Well, it gets the ball rolling anyway," Murdock told her, "We just have to make sure we keep our window of opportunity open so we can get to Masterson's house tonight."

"And how're we going to do that?" she wanted to know.

"I'm thinking," he said.

"Well think faster," she replied.

* * *

Hannibal pressed the button on his radio again and tried contacting the pilot again, "Murdock, do you read me? Come in."

"Crazy fool ain't gonna answer, Hannibal, something happened," B.A. told him.

"Yeah," Hannibal reluctantly admitted as he hung the radio up, "Just wish I knew what it was."

"You don't think Decker got them, do you?" Face asked hesitantly.

Hannibal shook his head, "I don't think so, Face."

Mad Dog was only paying half attention to them talk. He rolled down the window on his side of the van and looked out; the sky was turning a strange color and it looked like it might storm. Hannibal saw him in the rear view mirror and also glanced out to see what looked so interesting. He realized that this was very similar to how the sky looked when he and B.A. first went to the V.A. to bust him out. Even for Los Angeles it was weird weather and weird also that it could occur again so soon. There was going to be a storm soon, it was on everybody's minds.

A short while later they had a break in the radio from Murdock.

"What's going on, Captain?" Hannibal asked.

"We managed to get hold of one of the MP cars," Murdock answered, "And we took care of the two guys who were with it, but I think they'll be coming around soon."

"Where are you?" Hannibal asked.

Murdock told him where they could reach them and added, "Hey Hannibal, I don't know about all of us getting together, you know?"

Hannibal hated to admit it but he replied, "Yeah, might be too risky."

"Hannibal, we going to go back to the old plan?" Murdock asked.

"Which one?"

"Say we meet long enough for Mad Dog to come over to our side, I can keep them with me and we could lay low until further notice, and if Decker manages to nab you guys, we can come in to the rescue."

B.A. snorted and told Hannibal, "The fool's getting a swelled head, Hannibal."

"He's got a point, B.A., we can keep in touch with each other and if one group gets caught, the other side will step in," Hannibal said, "And it's the safest bet putting them together, Murdock's not wanted by the military, it's better for a guy wanted for murder and escape to be with him than three fugitives if we do get ambushed."

It was decided and agreed upon, within a few minutes the two vehicles met up in a vacant area where there wasn't anybody else around. Everybody got out of the van and went over to the two occupants of the MP car.

"You alright, M.D.?" Frankie asked as he came over to her.

"I'm alright," he answered as he put his arms around her, "You alright, Frankie?"

"Yeah sure, never better," she said.

"We'll leave the car here," Hannibal told Murdock, "The three of you will ride with us long enough to find a place to hide out at, then we'll split up for the time being."

Murdock nodded. Frankie and Mad Dog were the first ones into the van, Frankie took the spray bottle out of her pocket and put it back in Face's jacket that was left in the back. Everybody else piled in and as they pulled out, Hannibal dug out a map and looked over it and told the others, "There are two motels here with only six blocks between them, Murdock can take one and we'll take the other, we'll be close enough to stay in contact."

"Works for me," Face said.

Murdock was already gathering up his bags to take when they stopped at the first motel. Same routine, remove any evidence that the pilot was ever here, Decker _still_ didn't have any proof that Murdock was with the A-Team, and they were going to keep it that way as long as they could.

When the van stopped to drop them off, Murdock, Frankie and Mad Dog got out of the back and Murdock waved the others off as they drove away.

"Are you sure this is going to work, Murdock?" Frankie asked.

"What could go wrong?" he replied, "Come on, I'll get us checked in."

* * *

Mad Dog stood by the window and gazed out at the yellow sky and the large clouds that were moving in.

"Think it's gonna rain?" he asked Frankie.

She shook her head, "Don't know."

Murdock sorted through his bags and then looked up and over at them and said, "Sorry, guys, I could only get us the one bed so it's going to be a bit crowded."

They looked back to him and he was pulling the covers down on the bed.

"Come on," he said as he patted the mattress, "We gotta get some rest because we're going to be stepping out tonight."

Mad Dog and Frankie looked at each other and seemed to be thinking the same thing. They were both breathing harder now and moved as if somebody put molasses under their feet.

"You sure about this, Murdock?" Mad Dog asked.

"Come on, Mad Dog, this _was_ your idea after all," Murdock pointed out.

"Yeah in the beginning…now that we're getting down to zero hour I'm starting to wonder."

"Ah, it'll be fine," Murdock said, and pointed over to his duffel bag.

Mad Dog went over and reached into the bag and pulled out what was on top, which was the wedding dress.

"Tonight Masterson's going to have a date with a young bride from beyond the grave," Murdock said as he laughed slowly and maniacally.


	29. Chapter 29

Author's note: Advanced notice, only one more chapter after this.

Face pushed the drapes back and told B.A., "Well they haven't spotted us yet, I think we'll be safe for now anyway."

They turned away from the window and saw Hannibal sitting up on his bed with his arms crossed, his feet pressed firmly against the footboard, and a determined look on his face.

"Something wrong, Hannibal?" Face asked, knowing that something clearly was but not sure what it was.

"Yeah," Hannibal answered simply.

Face and B.A. looked at each other and shrugged mutually. It seemed Hannibal was in one of his rare moods again, and when they happened, there was never any telling what brought them about or what to do until the moment passed. So they decided it was best just to leave Hannibal to his own thoughts and wait for the moment to pass.

Hannibal sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose and closed his eyes for a few seconds. He had to talk to Murdock, he had to get something settled with the pilot, and soon. A fine thing, _he_ goes off about Murdock not being trustworthy, and then it hit Hannibal like a ton of bricks that _he_ never explained his plan to the captain involving this back-from-the-dead plot against Masterson. He must've been starting to get old, he was starting to slip.

Hannibal was shocked out of his thoughts and he slightly jumped up off the mattress when the phone rang, breaking the otherwise silence in the room.

They all looked at each other, silently questioning if the person calling the room was someone they could trust. Hannibal chanced it, he picked up the receiver, "Hello?"

"Colonel, can I talk to you?" Murdock asked.

"Murdock!" Hannibal responded, a bit too excitedly, but the others got the point that it was safe and so they went about their own business while Hannibal talked.

"What's going on, Murdock? Everything okay?" Hannibal asked.

In Murdock's motel room, he looked back at Frankie and Mad Dog who were asleep on the bed. He'd slipped them both a dose of B.A.'s bedtime drink so he could be alone with his phone.

"Yeah I guess you could say that," he answered as he rubbed his chin apprehensively with his free hand, "Hey look, Hannibal, I gotta talk to you about something."

"What's up?"

"Uh…" Murdock paused before explaining, "I know that you would never lie to me, Colonel, but I get the feeling that you've been holding something back from me the last few days."

"Yeah, I guess you could say that," Hannibal slowly replied as he half rolled his eyes, "Sorry, Captain, with us playing tag with everybody else the last few days it's been hard to catch you alone to bring you up to speed on what's going on."

"Well I guess that makes us even," Murdock told him as he stepped onto the dresser in the motel room, "There's something I want to talk to you about too."

That surprised Hannibal, "What is it?"

* * *

The storm that had been building up that afternoon threatened to drop on the city at any time, but right now it was still just in the threatening stage. The wind had picked up and howled like a banshee, the sky was black with clouds except for every so often when lightning would flash and for a split second light everything up. Richard Masterson heard the storm outside but paid little mind to it. Twice today he'd had someone call him, a mysterious caller who never identified himself but kept mentioning Alice Arden, saying she was going to come for him. He stood in his living room with his hands pressed against the mantel of his fireplace and his head down as he tried to make some sense of it. How could anybody have found out? And who was it? And who had told them? Oh he could guess _who_ had told, but _who_ would believe?

Outside the wind howled even stronger than before, and the next thing Masterson knew, the house went dark. A few seconds later, the lights flickered back on again. The power might be going out, so he sorted through the drawers for a flashlight, but before he could find one, the lights went out again, and seemed to stay off this time. Outside the thunder crashed, but he heard something else as well. At first he couldn't tell what the sound was he was hearing, then he realized it sounded like something rattling against the house, like a damn kid strumming a stick against the metal rungs in a fence. He followed the sound over to the west side wall of the dining room and tried looking out the window. When lightning flashed again, he saw nothing, but he heard something different. It sounded like an animal scratching by the door, like a set of claws scratching into the wire screen on the back door.

Masterson turned towards the kitchen and slowly made his way over to the door to look out. Again he couldn't see anything, but when the scratching noises stopped, he heard something that sounded like someone moaning. The sounds seemed to move along the house outside, and Masterson followed the sound of the moans back to the dining room windows. Lightning struck again but this time he _did_ see something; a woman in a long white wedding dress, but he drew back from the window screaming when he saw the woman's face. The face looked like a demon, the flesh dark and ashy, wrinkled and puckered in parts, looking like tree bark chipping off the trunk, the teeth protruded from a mouth that was closed, looking like fangs off a wild animal. The woman raised a gray and decaying hand up, balled it into a fist and beat against the window with it. Masterson inched away from the window and ran for the front door.

As soon as he ran down the porch steps, he saw a set of spinning lights and heard a brief wail of the siren of the police car that pulled up to his curb. An older officer with gray hair got out and asked him, "Trouble, sir?"

Masterson looked back to his house and didn't see the woman, he turned to the officer and said, "I'm not sure, I…I think someone was trying to break into my house."

"Sounds serious," the officer said as he pocketed a cigar he had started to take out, "We'll go have a look."

"Over here," Masterson pointed along the side of the house.

"Hmmm," the officer said as he looked over the area, "Looks like something tried clawing through the screen in your window…don't look like a human did it though, probably a wild animal in the area." He went over to the back door and asked Masterson, "Say, did you leave your back door open?"

"No I didn't."

"Well then," the officer took out his sidearm and a flashlight and said, "We'll check it out."

* * *

Masterson looked up at the overhead lights came on again. A minute later, the cop came up from the basement calling out, "There ya go!" He came up the stairs and told Masterson, "Found your problem, had a switch thrown in the breaker box."

"Oh, I thought the storm had put the power out," Masterson said.

"Nope, just threw a breaker," the officer said as he closed the door, "Seems you've been having some problems with it lately?"

"How's that?"

"Well the panel was open on it, you been fiddling around with the breakers before?" the cop asked.

"No, I keep it closed," Masterson told him.

"Oh, well it probably just worked its way loose, Lord knows mine's done that enough times," the cop said.

"I see," Masterson replied, "Well thanks for your help, officer."

"No problem, I'll show myself out," he said.

* * *

B.A. looked up the street waiting for a sign that Hannibal was on his way back, he'd been gone longer than planned. The thunder was rumbling up in the clouds, it wasn't as loud or as constant now as it had been earlier that night, but the low rumbling lasted a lot longer than the rest had. He looked up the street again and this time saw somebody coming their way. It wasn't Hannibal though, it looked like a woman. B.A. looked again and saw that the woman was wearing a long white dress, like a wedding dress. Now _who_ in their right mind would be getting married on a night like this?

The figure strolled down the road and came closer towards them and B.A. noticed the odd way the woman walked, slowly, almost limping, with her arms outstretched as if to keep herself balanced. The closer she came to them, the more B.A. realized that something about her didn't look quite right, but he wasn't sure what. He turned back to say something to Face but spun back around when he heard a growling, snarling noise coming from behind. The woman was only inches from him now and he was able to see her rotted, decaying face and razor sharp teeth as she inched towards him, snarling like a wild animal. B.A. drew back his fist to smash in the face of _whatever_ that was when it started laughing at him. The decrepit hands reached up and pulled on the face and the mask came off, revealing underneath…

"Hi, B.A., did I scare you?"

"Murdock!"

"Hey Face!" Murdock called as he staggered over on sore feet in four inch heels, "What do you think? Did you like it?"

"You look very nice, Murdock," Face sarcastically replied.

"I thought so, but man I don't know _how_ women can walk around in these," he lifted up one foot to show the bottom of the shoe to Face, "Which reminds me, _how_ did you ever find a pair in _my_ size?"

B.A. heard a car coming their way and saw it was the police car Hannibal had taken, he pulled it up behind the van and got out to join the others.

"Hey Hannibal," B.A. growled as he locked his hydraulic press arms around Murdock's tiny little waist and lifted the pilot off his feet and carried him over to Hannibal, with Murdock's feet swaying back and forth like a clock pendulum under the gown, "This the second time this crazy fool gone and put on a wedding dress, _what_'s going on here?"

Now Murdock was kicking like a cat that didn't like being held and he told B.A., "Put me down!"

"Shut up, fool," B.A. replied as he dropped Murdock, "Well Hannibal?"

"It's alright, B.A., it's all part of the plan," Hannibal assured the sergeant as he peeled off his cop disguise.

"What plan?" B.A. demanded to know, "You didn't say nothing about this crazy fool being there dressed up like a zombie."

"Well I was originally going to be a skeleton," Murdock said in his own defense, "But Hannibal had other ideas."

"Calm down, B.A.," Hannibal said, "It was a last minute decision, it turns out that Murdock was working on a plan similar to my own, and I decided to just put the good pieces of both together for the best result."

"So how _did_ it go?" Face asked.

Frankie and Mad Dog came running up to join the others and Frankie explained, "Looks like we've got Masterson damn near scared silly, you should've seen him running out of the house after he saw Murdock." She looked to Hannibal and added, "I don't know if he really thinks Alice is back from the dead or not, but he knows _something's_ wrong, it's just a matter of time before the other shoe drops."

"Ought to make it one of B.A.'s," Murdock said, "Mudsucker wears size 14 clodhoppers."

"Shut up, fool," B.A. told him.

"So now what do we do, Hannibal?" Face asked.

"Hardest part's already taken care of," Hannibal told them, "By the way, Face, that was very ingenuous of you picking the lock to the cellar door so we could cut the power in the first place."

"Yeah, and then locking it again on the way out, he never had a clue," Murdock noted.

"Now," Hannibal glanced at his watch, "We'll retire for the night and resume tomorrow with another anonymous phone call to the house."

"We'll catch up," Frankie told Hannibal, "We're gonna help Murdock get out of his dress."

"Alright, but don't take too long," Hannibal said as he went back to the police car to return it to the studio lot.

They waited until Hannibal was gone and B.A. and Face had left in the van before they started to help Murdock out of the wedding gown. He lifted his arms up and Frankie grabbed the skirt of it and started to hike it up. When they had the top part of the dress up over his head, Frankie stomped on his foot.

"Yeouch!" he yelped, "What did you do that for?"

"You told them!" Frankie said, "You told them the plan, damn you!"

Murdock moaned and started hopping on one foot once the dress was off of him, "I had to, Frankie."

"What do you mean you _had_ to?" Mad Dog asked.

"You set us up," Frankie said accusingly.

"Not exactly," Murdock told them both and explained, "Yes, in the beginning this was just _our_ plan, but the truth of the matter is we were _not_ going to fly solo on this."

"How can you say that?" Frankie wanted to know.

"Hannibal had his own plan for this guy, Hannibal's plans don't always work the way they're supposed to _but_ they always work, if I undermine his plan or his authority then I am ripping at the thread that holds the Team together and makes it the success it is. So I had to let him know what we were planning, but I didn't tell him the _whole_ story, he just thought it neatly paralleled his own idea. And for what he had planned, it worked." He addressed them both as he got dressed and told them, "I know how you both feel about this jerk, and you have every right to, I know you both would like nothing more than to see him dead, I wouldn't mind killing him myself, but that's not going to do either of you two any favors. We need him alive _and_ sane enough to make a full confession to the police when we nail him, that's the _only_ way you guys are ever gonna get your names cleared, you understand that?"

They looked at each other and didn't say anything. They looked like a couple of small kids who were facing punishment for breaking something and deciding how to get their stories straight. Murdock was a lot of things but he wasn't malicious, he could appreciate how trying and confusing this whole experience had been for them. He got between them and put his arms around their shoulders and told them, "Come on, let's get back to the motel, it's getting late."

* * *

Frankie didn't sleep that night, or if she did she wasn't aware of it. She lay in bed beside Mad Dog and Murdock and thought about what they were going to do next, and more importantly what _she_ was going to do next. She must've eventually fallen asleep because she noticed at one point that it was getting light out. She wasn't sure what she was going to do, but she knew she couldn't stay here. Moving carefully and quietly, she got up from the bed without disturbing the other two and she padded over to the bathroom. First she picked up her shoes, and then went in and locked the bathroom door. She turned on the shower and left it running as she put her shoes on and went over to the window and slid it open and slipped out.

She ran fast and hard, ran like she felt she'd been running the last three years, trying to get somewhere, anywhere, but always ending up nowhere. Only this time she was going somewhere, she ran until she was back in the town she had grown up in, spent her whole life in. Everything looked the same, nothing had changed since she'd been gone. It was still early, people either weren't up yet or were already going to work, now seemed like a perfect opportunity. She followed the roads she knew so well until she came to the same block that her house stood in the middle of. It looked the same as she remembered, nothing was different. There were no cars in the driveway so she went up the sidewalk, up to the porch, and went right on in.

She closed the door behind her and pinned herself against it as if to make sure nobody got in. The early sun was already shining brightly in through every window in the house, making it look very cheerful and lively, but all she felt was cold running down her spine.

She called out to make sure she was alone, "Mom? …Dad?" no answer. She moved away from the front door and walked straight into the kitchen. She went over to the cupboards under the sink, opened a drawer that the silverware was kept in and sorted through the contents until she found what she was looking for.

It wasn't _quite_ what she was looking for. She was hoping to find the stainless steel wedding cake cutter her parents had from when they first got married, those after all she had found were most comparable to a garden trowel, nice and sharp. Instead she could only find a metal pie server, it was of roughly the same build and shape, except this was a smoothed, rounded blade at the tip, like a butter knife, not very sharp at all. But Frankie decided it would have to do, she put it in her pocket, closed the drawer, and exited the house she had spent 20 years at through the back door, and ran back to the motel before anybody could discover she was missing.

As she neared the motel she had slowed down to a walk, and now a lot more things were going through Frankie's mind, one of which, how the hell was she going to get this thing sharp enough to actually use? She thought she found her answer when she saw a large rock garden in the yard outside the motel. She knelt down and felt some of the bigger rocks and found one that seemed hard and durable enough to use. Of course she knew one of these was a poor excuse for a sharpening stone, but it was the best she could do on short notice. She picked the rock up, shoved it into her other pocket, and then climbed back in through the bathroom window. Closing the window, she went over to the door, unlocked it and opened it a crack to see Murdock and Mad Dog were still in bed. She had pulled it off, she let out a sigh of relief. Well, one part anyway, now came the harder part.

* * *

"Well Masterson, did you have a good time with your guest last night?" Hannibal asked when he called the man the next morning.

It was obvious that Masterson hadn't forgotten the events from last night, Hannibal could hear his voice shaking as he demanded to know, "Who the hell are you? What do you want?"

"I'm in a market for something very precious, Mr. Masterson," Hannibal explained, "The truth, it's a funny thing to run a business on but I've always been very particular to it. Alice is very upset that you ran out on her last night, she was _so_ hoping to see more of you. But I wouldn't worry, I'm sure she'll be able to come and pay you another visit tonight."

Face had his hand clamped over his mouth so he wouldn't be heard laughing, he went over to B.A. and whispered to the sergeant, "Hannibal sure seems to have a knack for this stuff, don't you think?"

"Man's crazier than Murdock," B.A. replied, clearly unimpressed.

"Well yeah, there's that too," Face said.

"I'm afraid, Masterson, that we really have very little to discuss, but if I decide otherwise, I'll get in touch with you again," Hannibal concluded as he hung up the phone.

"Hey Hannibal, don't tell me that crazy fool Murdock's gonna be wearing that dress again," B.A. said.

"He may not have to," Hannibal answered, "I'm banking on us getting him out of that house by this afternoon so we can go in and retrieve the knife."

"Hannibal," Face interjected, "Even if it turns out that that _is_ the murder weapon…it's been three years, any blood that was on it is going to be long gone."

"Not necessarily," Hannibal replied, "The more advanced police forensics come, the more they find out that you never _really_ get rid of _all_ the blood on anything. There may be one _teeny_ tiny drop somewhere wedged between the blade and the handle, if it's there, the police are going to find it, that, _with_ his confession, is going to get him a life sentence, I'll guarantee it. If the police could find a drop of blood on Lizzie Borden's dress a hundred years ago, they can find a trace of blood on that knife now."

"It's just too bad we couldn't find out if he really _did_ have something to do with the prosecutor from Mad Dog's case being killed, that would definitely cement the case," Face noted.

"Maybe we can get that confession out of him as a bonus," Hannibal thought. He looked at the time and said, "I'm going to call over to the other motel and see how things are going on Murdock's side."

* * *

"Well we're all doing fine here, Colonel," Murdock told Hannibal as he walked back and forth across the motel room with the phone in hand, "Yeah we got through the night okay…uh…besides me? Well then the only thing weird going on around here is Frankie seems to be a little…introverted this morning…she keeps ducking either into the bathroom or into the closet to be left alone…I don't know _why_ she's doing it but it seems a little weird even by my standards."

As Murdock talked to Hannibal, Mad Dog had his ear to the closet door trying to hear what was going on, but he wasn't hearing anything over the pilot's jabbering. He knocked on the door and said softly, "Come on Frankie, come out of there and let's talk about this."

"There's nothing to talk about, Mad Dog," she replied from inside the closet, "Now go away and leave me alone."

But he didn't move one inch away from the door, he tried making some sense out of what was going on but was coming up empty. He leaned against the door and sank down to the floor and quietly asked himself, "What's going on?"

Frankie listened and when everything became quiet outside, she got up from her cramped spot against the closet wall and turned the doorknob and stepped out. Now that she had a little light to see by, she took a look at her handiwork that she'd been working on all morning. Her hand had a narrow red indention clear across it from the grip she'd kept on the server's handle while she tried sharpening it on the rock. The rock itself was starting to look like something that had seen better days, the blade on the server was crooked and uneven but it was getting sharp enough to actually cut something with, but it still needed some more work to be complete.

There was no sign of Murdock or Mad Dog anywhere, it didn't really bother her too much but she looked around just to make sure that they were gone. She found a note left for her on the dresser, it said that they'd gone to pick up lunch and would be back soon, and if there was any trouble there was the number to Hannibal's motel room a few blocks over. Well, she'd bought herself a little time to work by the daylight, she sat down on the bed and proceeded grinding the sides of the pie cutter against the stone, though for all the trouble it had taken already to make as much progress as she had, she would've rather been sawing down a tree piece by piece and all by hand.

After a while, Frankie heard somebody coming back so she took her tools and went into the bathroom, locked herself in and turned the shower on to cover the noise.

"Well," Murdock said when he heard the water running, "She's out of the closet, that's a start anyway." He turned to Mad Dog and asked him, "But didn't she take a shower this morning?"

"Beats me, I was asleep," M.D. told him.

Murdock shrugged and commented only, "Boy she's a clean girl." He went over to the door, knocked on it and called in, "Hey Frankie, we picked up some sandwiches for lunch!"

Inside the bathroom, Frankie was seated on the edge of the bathtub, the stone gripped in one hand and the steel server gripped in the other. Furiously she sawed against the stone and watched as bit by bit the blade became sharper on the side and the tip. It was like she was trying to saw down a redwood by hand before the whistle blew for the day, the closer she saw she was coming to her intended goal, the faster she worked and the less attention she paid to everything else. The work combined with the heat from the water had her perspiring and sweat was running down into her eyes, she only blinked it away, never pulling back from her work for a second. And then finally, she held the server up to the light and saw it was as sharp as a newly made butcher's knife, perfect.

* * *

A few minutes later, Frankie emerged from the bathroom with large parts of her skin shining from the water still, her hair was wet and her face was flushed from the heat.

"Hey cous, you feeling alright?" Murdock asked.

"Never better," she replied as she went over to the table and picked up one of the sandwiches. For no more than the 10 minutes she'd spent actually in the shower she was confident she'd scrubbed every inch of her body till it was as clean as polished silver.

"So," she said after taking a swig of her soda, "What's the next part of Hannibal's plan?"

"He's been making a few calls to Masterson since this morning, he's trying to get him out of the house so we can get in and look for the knife."

"Won't work," Frankie told him, "I'm the only one who knows what it looks like, he should have me go in and get it."

Murdock got an uncomfortable look on his face as he told her, "All due respect, Frankie, I don't think that'd be a good idea."

"Why not?" she asked, "You worried I'm going to start getting reckless _now_?"

"It's not that," Murdock started to say.

"Murdock, this guy's got blood on his hands, a _lot_ of it," Frankie told him, "I may not know how many women he actually _murdered_, but there were a lot of girls when I was growing up who weren't as lucky to get away from him as I was, and you know what happened to a lot of them? They killed themselves, because they couldn't stand what he'd done to them and they knew that there wasn't anybody who was going to believe them or fight for them. Whatever it takes to make sure he never sees daylight again, I'm _not_ going to screw it up."

Murdock smiled at her, "I know you're not, Frankie."

* * *

"Dammit," Hannibal said as he put down his binoculars, "Decker must have ESP, there's been an MP car parked on the block by Masterson's house for half an hour now."

"You don't think he figured out who we were, do you?" Face asked.

"He's not smart enough to do something like that," Hannibal said, "Somebody had to have recognized us from somewhere and called it in."

"So now what do we do, Hannibal?" B.A. asked.

"We don't have any choice, we have to go back to the motel for now and wait until that car leaves," Hannibal said, "And make sure that there aren't any backup cars to take its place."

"Maybe you could try phoning in another false alarm," Face suggested.

Hannibal shook his head as he bit down on his cigar, "No good, as much as we can go a week without the army finding us, there can't be _too_ many reports about us coming in so close together, otherwise they're going to start figuring out something's up."

"Still, too bad we couldn't find some way to get them chasing their tails so we could move in," Face said.

Hannibal looked up to the sky, it suddenly got dark out and he saw large dark clouds moving in again. Perhaps the storm that had threatened to but never fell last night would do so _tonight_ instead.

* * *

"I got us some drinks," Frankie said as she carried three plastic glasses into the bed section of the motel room where Murdock and Mad Dog were.

Mad Dog took his first and drank it down. Then she went over to Murdock who was standing by the window looking out, he took his and said, "Thanks, cous."

"See anything?" Frankie asked as she took hers and went back towards the bed.

"Looks like a storm's coming up, could be a real beauty," Murdock told her, "You ever been in a tornado, Frankie?"

"Once, I was too little to remember it though," she answered.

"You know how they always come out of those great big wall clouds?" Murdock asked, "Those great big clouds that just go _on_ and _on_ and _on_ as far as the eye can see? That's what that looks like out there."

"Think there's a tornado in it?" she asked.

"Unlikely, the weather conditions aren't right for a tornado," Murdock said, "Though they do look a little green…so we probably get hail." He snorted and said, "The way the weather's been lately we could sure take some of that when it melts." He swallowed his drink and added, "Hannibal said that they got held up back in town…looks like somebody dropped a dime to the MPs about us, they've been watching the block so they can't get in."

"I see," Frankie replied neutrally.

She looked out the window as well and saw the sky, it looked like she felt.

A short while later Murdock moved away from the window to stretch and yawn, and he saw Mad Dog had fallen asleep, and Frankie was leaning over him stroking his head and softly murmuring to him. Murdock had to strain his ear to hear the last of it as she told M.D., "I love you, Murdoch, I hope you remember that."

"Don't worry, Frankie, in a little while this is all gonna be over," Murdock told her.

Frankie looked up at him and said almost nonchalantly, "You have no idea."

* * *

The sky had gotten much darker and looked like dead of night even though it was a couple of hours before it would reach that point. Frankie trudged through the dirt under her feet and went over to the phone booth. She closed the door behind her, put a quarter in and dialed and said to the person on the other end of the line, "I'd like the number for the Federal Building in Los Angeles. Thank you…" After getting that, she hung up, put in another quarter and dialed again, and waited, then someone answered. "Hello? I'd like to report a sighting of the A-Team…they _just_ went into the Catholic church on Baker Street, yes, in Bakersfield, please hurry, I don't know what they're doing or how long they'll be there."

She hung up and thought about what had to be done now. She bought a little time, it would only take a few minutes for all available cars to get over to the other town but it was all the time she needed for what she had planned. It would _have_ to be enough time.

Frankie had just made it back to the motel room a few minutes before the thunder and lightning started. It wasn't raining yet, probably wouldn't again, not that it mattered to her either way. A few minutes later there was a knock at the door. She answered and saw that it was Hannibal.

"What's going on?" she asked.

"The MPs just left, we can move in now, B.A. and Face are keeping an eye out incase somebody would happen to circle back, but that's unlikely, where's Murdock?" Hannibal asked.

"He's in here," Frankie said as she nodded towards the bed.

Hannibal stepped into the room and saw Murdock and Mad Dog both asleep on the bed.

"Murdock, what are you…"

THUD

That was all Hannibal got out before something hit him over the back of the head and he sank down to his knees and collapsed on the floor like a ton of bricks. He was instantaneously out like a light, Frankie stood hovered over him.

"Sorry, Hannibal," she said to the unconscious older man on the floor, "I really did like you guys…but this isn't your call to make anymore, it's mine."

She tossed the bottle of sleeping pills that she'd used to drug the two Murdocks with into the wastebasket, then she picked up the customized server and walked out. She closed the door behind her, locked it and took off into the night and into the ominous weather, right now it was a _perfect_ comparison to how she felt. She stormed off into the darkness and made her way back the path she had already gone once today, this time she knew there would be no coming back.


	30. Chapter 30

Author's note: Here we are at the end of the road. Many thanks to all the people who have followed this story and to the ones who have reviewed it. Hope this final chapter proves satisfactory to everyone.

"_Hannibal? Hannibal!"_

The colonel felt his head swimming as he started to regain consciousness. He managed to get his eyes open and saw that he was on the floor of Murdock's motel room, he rolled over to look up and saw Face hovering over him.

"Hannibal, are you alright?"

"W-wh—what happened?" Hannibal slowly asked as he waited for the stars to stop spinning in front of his eyes.

"I don't know," Face told him.

From the other side of the room, B.A. was trying to wake up Murdock, with even less results.

"Come on you crazy fool, get up," B.A. said as he lightly smacked the pilot's cheek to rouse him.

"Hu-huh, what?" Murdock opened his eyes, yawned and said, "Hey B.A., when'd you get here?"

"Get up, fool!" B.A. told him as he kicked Murdock off the bed, the sudden commotion proved enough to also bring M.D. around as well.

"Hannibal, what's going on here?" Face asked as the colonel got to his feet and seemed to regain some of his balance.

Hannibal tried to think back and remember what had happened, and then it came to him.

"Frankie…she did this, she knocked me out…but where is she?"

"She wasn't here when we got here," Face told him, "You don't think that she…" he caught the look on Hannibal's face and nodded, "Of _course_ you do, and of course she did."

"Did what?" Mad Dog asked.

Hannibal explained, "She went to deal with Masterson herself, and she made sure she got us out of the way before she left."

"How much of a head start do you think she got on us?" Face asked.

"I don't now, but we need to catch her before she gets there," Hannibal said.

They rushed out of the motel room but before they could reach the van, bright lights were thrown on them and they were blinded.

"Freeze, United States Army!"

The lights dimmed and they saw several MP cars crowded around the exit from the motel back onto the main road, and a group of MPs standing in front of them.

"Of _course_," Hannibal dryly noted as they put their hands up.

* * *

The clock struck the hour, the clangs of the bell in the clock rang throughout the house and echoed, making an almost maddening sound. Richard Masterson looked around the room, as if expecting something or someone to jump out and yell 'boo!', whoever had been calling him over the past two days had stopped calling a few hours ago. Now he was trying to anticipate if this meant another visit from whatever that thing was in his window the night before.

And then, his eyes widened and he felt his heart move up to his throat, he heard footsteps outside the house. They came up to the front door and stopped, and the door slowly creaked open. He went to the dining room threshold and saw the door slowly swing all the way open and stepping into the house was Frankie, wearing a white wedding dress clumsily pulled on over her jeans and T-shirt. It was the same wedding dress Murdock had worn the other night for his own performance, but he didn't need to know that.

"Hello, Richard," she said as she stepped further in and kicked the door shut behind her, "Do you remember me? I'm sure you do, I'm sure you've been thinking of me quite _often_."

"F-Frankie," he said, taken aback, "What's this all about? What're you doing here?"

"You're surprised to see me?" she asked as she watched every move he made, "Oh and I was so hoping that when you mentioned that 'nice ripe 20-year-old waiting for you back home', that it was _me_ you had in mind. I know I've been thinking a _lot_ about you lately. Waiting for this moment," she pulled the sharpened cutter out from behind her back and held it like she was going to slash him, the way Hannibal had taught her. "Three years, Richard, did you really think that I _wouldn't_ get to the truth given enough time?"

He started to back up as he realized how serious the situation was becoming and he told her, "I don't know what you're talking about."

"I do," Frankie replied as she inched along with him, "You killed Alice Arden, you did it _solely_ to set Mad Dog up, you followed us, you _knew_ we were alone that night, you drugged us, you murdered that woman and dumped her body in his living room, then you called in your friends at the police station. You _knew_ I was in that house, you gave that cop the direct order _not_ to take me along. And I don't know how but you _knew_ I was going to the prosecutor handling the case and you had him killed too so nobody would find out the truth of what happened that night. You know, Richard, I've gotten a little experience in cutting people open, and I'll be honest I just don't see what the big appeal of it is…I'm sure you do though, and now you're going to get a dose of your own medicine."

"Frankie…" Masterson was cut off when he unexpectedly backed into something jabbing him and he moved to the side.

"I never could figure out _why_ you took the cake server since it would've only further incriminated Mad Dog…but Hannibal was right, you like a trophy from your kill…that's why you swapped the knives. How many other trophies do you have? When the police turn your utensil drawer inside out, are they going to find blood traces on _all_ the blades in it?"

"I don't know what you're talking about," he said.

"It doesn't matter how many people you butchered yourself, you've got plenty of blood on your hands, all those other girls you cornered in their homes when they were alone. I followed the papers, I read every one of their suicide notices…nobody else could ever figure out _why_ all those young girls would hang themselves or drive their car at 80 miles an hour into a wall, but _I_ did…and I always swore if you _ever_ got your hands on me, if I killed myself I was going to take you down with me."

"Frankie…"

"Don't!" Frankie pointed at him with the cutter, and he froze in his tracks, "Don't even think of trying to get one of your own knives from the kitchen, that ain't gonna help you now. You're such a _man_, you always wanted to prove your manhood to any girl who had the misfortune of crossing your path, so stand your ground and take what happens to you like a man for once in your damn life. The authorities are going to be here soon enough to deal with you, they know _everything_."

Masterson's eyes widened, "You told the police?"

"No, not the police, a _higher_ authority, a more _powerful_ one, an unstoppable force the A-Team," she told him, "Green Berets, the Special Forces, United States Army-made killers, they'll be here very soon to finish this matter, but by the time they _do_ get here there isn't going to be _much_ left to settle. They said just leave it to them, _they_ would deal with you…" she shook her head, "They don't get that privilege, they don't have that right, _they_ didn't spend 3 years with life as they knew it falling apart because of you, they haven't had the benefit of being driven stark raving mad out of their minds by _you_, that's all on _me_, and Mad Dog. He never had the stomach to do anything with you, so I have to do that for him as well, and I'll do it gladly; you thought you could just have him sent to prison and I'd never see him again and I'd forget about him and then _you_ would be there to take his place, well it didn't work. You've ruined both our lives, I got nothing left to lose by killing you now. I could've dealt with just standing aside and letting the police haul you away, but I'm owed my pound of flesh before they do."

"Frankie, you're making too much of this, you don't know what you're talking about," he tried to reason with her.

"I know plenty, I've known since the day I first met you that I didn't like you and I always knew there was a reason…you fooled my parents but you could _never_ fool me…you fooled a _lot_ of people, but none of that matters now, they can't help you now…you can _try_ calling for help but I think you'll find that your telephone isn't working right now, the storm and all," she sneered at him, "And in any case by the time anybody got here, it'd be too late to help you anyway. You wanted me for all those years, Richard, well I'm here now, so come and get me, or I'm gonna come and get you. I know your kind well enough to know you never stop, so I'm performing a public service for all those new young girls that you're _never_ going to get a chance to get your grimy hands on. They can put _me_ in the electric chair for what happens here tonight but it'll be well worth it to rid the world of _you_. You're the worst kind of killer because you're a coward, you won't even stand your ground to fight when somebody actually retaliates against you."

At that moment, the lights went out, and Masterson took that opportunity to make a break for it. He had been only inches from his kitchen and when the house went dark, he scrambled to the back door and ran outside. When he did, he felt the ground beneath him vibrating as a particularly loud crash of thunder exploded and it felt like an earthquake underneath him. The rain had come and it was pouring down in sheets that nearly blinded him. Only half able to see where he was going, Masterson ran around to the front yard to try and reach his car parked down at the curb, but he never made it.

When Masterson ran out the back door, Frankie ran back out the front and slipped in the mud and fell on her knees. Even without the heels she could see very well why Murdock had had so much trouble moving in this thing. She was trying to get up again when she saw Masterson running towards her and she knew that she only had one shot at this. She gripped the handle of the pie server in both hands in an underhanded move, and when he blindly ran by her she lunged up and with full force, rammed the blade into his stomach. The noise he made was great, though it was hardly loud enough to hear at all. He didn't scream as she thought he would, he only let out a choked gasp and moan and collapsed in the yard beside her.

* * *

"Home again," Hannibal said as they were marched into the front lobby of the Federal Building.

"Well well," Decker commented amusedly as he took in the sight before him, "Look what the cat dragged in."

"Funny, I was just thinking the same thing about you," Hannibal said with a small grin.

Decker came over to see the prisoners and Hannibal mimicked his posture and facial expression and said in a gruff voice mocking Decker's, "This is the end of the line, Smith." Then he resumed his normal disposition and asked the other colonel, "Isn't that about what you'd say?"

"Except you're not getting away this time," Decker told him, and marched along examining each one of them. Smith, Baracus, Peck... "Well, Captain Murdock, nice to see you could join the party."

"Oh yeah? Can I be the Indian guy who throws the tea overboard?" Murdock asked.

"Leave him alone, Decker," Hannibal said, "The man's insane, he hardly even knows who he is."

"You expect me to believe that, Smith? How stupid do you think I am?" Decker asked.

"I don't know," Hannibal replied humorously, "I didn't know there was a gauge for it."

Decker moved along the line and looked at the fifth man. "And who is this?" he looked back to Hannibal and mocked, "One of your hostages?"

"Yeah, that's it," Hannibal said.

"We're going to run his fingerprints and find out just who he is," Decker told them.

"Fingerprints?" Mad Dog asked, "You want fingerprints? I'll give you fingerprints, a whole lot of them!" And without warning, he lunged at Decker and wrapped his hands around the colonel's throat.

It was an action that took everybody by surprise, including the A-Team, but it bought them enough time to ambush the MPs so they could make their getaway. B.A. slammed two men's heads together and knocked them out, Face and Murdock helped a couple more reach the same goal, Hannibal KO'd a couple more and it seemed their window of opportunity was open. There was only one problem.

Mad Dog hadn't let go of Decker when the others had finished with the MPs and right now he seemed to be mopping the floor with the colonel; there wasn't a single part of Decker's body that wasn't being stomped, kicked, punched or thrashed into a wall.

"He's really lost it!" Face noted.

Hannibal and B.A. went over and grabbed Mad Dog by the back of his shirt, as he had grabbed Decker by the top seams of his jacket and knocked him against the wall repeatedly, and pulled the young man off of Decker. Decker's eyes rolled back in his head and he slumped down the wall unconscious, the A-Team made their exit through the front door but it was now with Mad Dog struggling and trying to fight them instead. Hannibal grabbed the young man harder to get his attention and shook him, "Mad Dog, calm down!"

But he didn't hear Hannibal, he was half rambling something to himself, as though he was still attacking Decker. B.A. drew a hand back and slapped Mad Dog at half force trying to snap him out of it, and it must've done something because he stopped resisting them and started talking coherently.

"I should've done that to Masterson when I first met him, then none of this would've happened, we wouldn't be going through this now…if only I'd had the brains to kill him back then..."

"Mad Dog, calm down," Hannibal tried to approach the volatile young man.

But it was like he didn't acknowledge any of their presences, the fight was leaving him and he started to sink down onto the ground himself as he continued babbling, "I should've killed him when I had the chance, I should've done _something_…I…" his voice was starting to break, "I was supposed to protect Frankie…and I didn't! …I didn't!" He sank down on the ground completely and clamped a hand over his mouth as he broke out sobbing.

Murdock was the first to reach him, he crouched down beside M.D. and hugged him tight, Hannibal knelt down and placed a hand on M.D.'s back, he didn't respond to the touch, Hannibal soothingly patted his back and helped Murdock lift the man to his feet. Right now there wasn't a member of the A-Team who didn't feel sick seeing this, watching Mad Dog fall apart. He still blamed himself for all that had happened and it was a feeling they could understand very well, they also knew the futility of it, and the fact that knowing this never seemed to help the person going through this. What had just happened here was three years' worth of hate and rage and self-blame and guilt finally manifesting themselves into something real and forcing their way out.

Since they'd been forced to leave B.A.'s van back at the motel, which apparently was how the MPs had caught them, by following it from one motel to the next, they decided to liberate one of the MP cars for the night. They got Mad Dog settled in the back with Murdock, who continued to try consoling the distraught younger man, and Hannibal told Face, "Get on the phone, call for an ambulance, and give them the address to Masterson's house, I have a feeling by the time we get there, _somebody's_ going to need it."

* * *

It only took them a few minutes to reach the house, but they already knew they'd missed all the action. They could see the front door standing wide open to the house, the lights were out though, but with the headlights from the car they were able to see a body laying in the yard. Everybody got out of the car and ran over to find that it was Masterson, who had been stabbed in the stomach, and despite the rain pouring down, had a nice patch of blood staining his shirt.

"Is he dead?" Mad Dog asked.

Hannibal felt the man's neck, "I got a pulse…"

"Too bad we already called for the ambulance," Face noted, right now even he had a little devil in him that'd be only too happy to see this man croak where he lay.

"But where's Frankie?" Mad Dog asked as he looked around frantically.

Hannibal signaled for the others to be quiet so he could listen. It was hard to hear much of anything over the rain but everybody listened, and they were able to hear a quiet choking sound. Hannibal turned and traced the sound to coming from around the side yard of the house. They went in that direction and stopped when they saw a pair of shoes sticking out from under a large tree. Frankie was laying under the tree, half shielded from the rain, her body horribly contorted on the ground, she was lightly rocking from side to side as she cried hysterically, her arms were wrapped around her body, and her hands were still coated in blood.

"Frankie," Hannibal whispered as he crouched down beside her to see if she was injured.

She didn't hear him, and she didn't respond. She never opened her eyes, just continued to cry inconsolably. Mad Dog knelt down on the other side of her and carefully put his arms around her, lifting her a few inches up from the ground, and holding her against him as she continued to sob, completely unaware of anybody's presence. He smoothed back a few wet strands of hair that had plastered to her forehead, and he brought his head down until his forehead touched with hers, and though she couldn't hear him, the others heard him as he spoke to her, "Frankie…it's over, Frankie…"

Frankie jerked her head from side to side as if she finally heard him, but still there were no words, only animalistic cries and wails. Mad Dog kissed her on her forehead and said quietly, "Don't cry, Frankie…I still love you."

Emotional turmoil at its finest, and still Murdock found himself moved, so much so that he lowered his head and brought a hand up to wipe a lone tear away from his own eye with the middle finger of his right hand.

Frankie made a sudden choking noise and fell back against the ground, her breathing rapid now and it seemed the problems were caused by a sudden pain in her chest. Hannibal felt her neck for a pulse and said, "She's going into shock."

"It was too much for her," Murdock said as he took off his jacket and gave it to Mad Dog to cover her with.

"What was?" Mad Dog asked as he took the jacket.

"Knowing what she'd done…and knowing _why_ she had to do it," Murdock told him.

"Had to?" Face repeated.

"A necessary evil it was," Murdock said, as though he knew what he was talking about, "She had the stomach for it but lost the nerve...she didn't get any pleasure out of doing this to him, she _thought_ she could take what she had to do, but she couldn't." He pointed to the woman convulsing on the ground and told the others, "There's the proof, she's not evil, she's damaged but she's still human, unlike _that_ thing over there in the front yard."

Off in the distance they could hear sirens of the approaching ambulance and they all let out a sigh of relief.

"Hannibal!" B.A. called and pointed to what else he'd found under the tree.

Hannibal pulled out the wedding dress that had once been white but was now a mess of mud, grass stains and blood.

"Take this and hide it, we'll burn it later," Hannibal told B.A.

"Burn it?" Face repeated, "What for?"

"The justice system didn't do these two any favors the first go around, and it won't now either, so we're going to do it for them," Hannibal told his men.

They heard a sharp hiss and groan coming from Masterson, he was starting to come around. Hannibal marched over to him and when the man opened his eyes, Hannibal told him, "If you can hear me then know this…I've seen enough war injuries to bank it's a safe bet you're going to live. And if you _do_ make it out of that hospital alive, you are going to give a full confession to the police about what you did, and you are going to offer up that cake server you used to butcher Alice Arden with. If you do not, we _will_ find out and we're going to come back for you, and if you think that pinprick you got in your gut is bad, just wait till _we_ have a turn with you."

The ambulance pulled up and Hannibal went over and told the paramedics, "We have two injured people here, and they can _not_ ride together, believe me."

A second ambulance was called in and until it arrived, the paramedics busied themselves with both patients but first and foremost with making sure Masterson didn't croak on them. When the second ambulance came they got Frankie loaded up onto a gurney, covered with heavy blankets and strapped down so she couldn't move. She was still half out of her mind with shock and hysteria and couldn't talk, Hannibal wasn't even sure she knew where she was.

"I've got to go with her," Mad Dog told the paramedics.

Hannibal nodded and told them, "Let him, he's the only family she's got right now."

They let him ride along, they got the doors shut up on both ambulances and drove out into the storm, leaving the A-Team behind in the dust with the rain pouring down on them.

"So now what, Hannibal?" Face asked.

"Now we wait," Hannibal answered.

* * *

The sun was shining bright, the sky was blue and clear, the weather was warm and dry, nothing like the storm that had long since passed. The birds were out singing, the flowers were in full bloom, and everybody seemed to be out taking in the sun and fresh air, well as fresh as California air got.

Hannibal, Face, B.A. and Murdock followed the path of the limestone sidewalk that led through to the small park. They were just in time to see Mad Dog and Frankie coming up their way; in a way they looked like the ideal silent film couple, two young people madly in love, walking through the park hand in hand, and ooh didn't they look cute together?

"Hey!" Frankie said in surprise when she spotted them. They went up to the A-Team and she asked, "What're you guys doing here?"

"We came by to offer our congratulations," Hannibal told them.

"On what?" Frankie asked.

Hannibal puffed on his cigar and blew out a slow trail of smoke and answered, "Well we've been following the newspapers, we know that the jury came back with its verdict."

Frankie smiled sadly and nodded. After the night when she stabbed Masterson, as soon as the chaos had all died down, the police had come to the hospital and arrested her. She had gone without protest, but somebody had been looking after them, a lawyer was called for her and assigned to her case, and he had made it clear that he intended to convince the Grand Jury to _not_ seek charges against her. At the same time, Mad Dog had been taken into custody of a mental hospital that was evaluating him for diagnosis and any necessary treatments until further notice; Murdock's psychiatrist, Dr. Richter, examined both of them for a time before recommending other specialists to take over for him while he resumed his work at the V.A. It had been a long, drawn out process that involved round the clock tests, exams and interviews by psychiatrists, psychologists, sociologists, and every other mental professional in the state who all wanted to get Frankie's own story from her mouth and body language and judge it against past cases and studies, and what they knew.

Ultimately it had been concluded that Frankie had been suffering both a nervous and mental breakdown at the time of the attack, brought about by years of trauma, extreme emotional distress, and post traumatic stress that were left undiagnosed and untreated. She had spent several weeks receiving psychiatric care at a facility and now had been deemed fit to leave the hospital and reenter society only a couple of days ago. The pie cutter had been retrieved as evidence, and the psychiatrists testifying on her behalf pointed to this as further proof that she was _not_ in her right mind when she attacked Masterson because a person dead set on a premeditated murder would _never_ use a pie cutter of all things, and they _certainly_ wouldn't do such a shoddy job of sharpening it. They looked at how jagged and uneven the finished product had been left as, a blind determination, but no intentional forethought behind it, just a blind reaction that set her to make it like that.

And in other news, once Frankie's whole story was told in front of the Grand Jury, the state _had_ decided to prosecute Richard Masterson on one charge of premeditated murder, and other lesser charges of statutory rape, stalking, and criminal harassment. He'd made a deal with the District Attorney and pled guilty for a reduced sentence, though it still amounted to more or less a life sentence, and spared all still living victims the ordeal of having to testify against him; and since he pled guilty to the murder Mad Dog had originally been charged with, M.D. had been cleared and given a clean bill of mental health to boot by the doctors who examined him.

Also, since it was obvious he had had help in his escapades, as part of the plea agreement Masterson had given them the names of the police officer who had called in the raid and arrest at Murdoch's home, as well as the staff member at the V.A. who had filled out the forms to schedule Murdoch for a lobotomy, _and _the staff at the Freemont hospital who helped shoehorn a clearly sane man in as a patient, and then bussed him out to another hospital when things started looking suspicious. Also, a formal investigation was pending with the Freemont hospital after complaints had been filed against the staff there for inhumane treatment of its other patients, and it looked promising that the hospital may close before too long. All in all it had been a very busy week for the local justice system.

"They let me go because I had some _very_ professional psychiatric people speaking on my behalf," Frankie said as she looked to Murdock, "Tell your doctor Richter I said thanks for calling in the pros."

Murdock smiled sheepishly and replied, "Anytime, cous, anytime."

"I also see by the newspapers," Hannibal said to them with a knowing smirk, "That you two have announced your engagement."

"And we wanted to be the first ones to come by and congratulate you on the matter," Face added, "Uh…in fact we decided to give you guys _our_ wedding present to you now." He picked up a briefcase he'd carried out with him and gave it to Mad Dog.

"What is it?" he asked as he slowly opened it.

"We just got done doing a job for a Turkish diplomat whose son got into some hot water giving new meaning to the term 'diplomatic relations'," Hannibal explained, "A job he was willing to pay handsomely for, and he did."

Mad Dog opened the briefcase and he and Frankie both about dropped dead from shock at seeing thousands of dollars bundled up in the case.

"How much is this?" Frankie asked.

"Ten thousand dollars," Hannibal answered, "Ten percent of our fee for the job."

"For _once_ we actually got paid the full amount," Face added cynically.

"Oh my God, I don't know what to say," Frankie said as she moved over towards them, "Thank you."

"That's good enough," Hannibal said as he pulled her into a hug, "Congratulations, kid."

"You don't know how much this means to us," she said.

"I do," Face replied as he came next in line, "Ten thousand dollars' worth. We figured that way you two could skip the starter house and find something more permanent to settle in now and avoid the rush."

Murdock came up behind Face and was waiting with his arms outstretched wide and a big grin on his face. As Frankie hugged him she pulled up his ball cap and noted, "Hey, you've got brown hair again!"

"Yeah well," he replied as he pulled his cap down, "I decided to go natural again, besides we decided we only really need _one_ blonde on the Team."

"Who's that?" Frankie asked.

Face cleared his throat loudly. Frankie turned back to him and asked, "You got hay fever?"

"Everybody's a comedian," he said.

"Hannibal, thank you so much, I can't believe that you would do this for us," Frankie said as she went back to him and hugged him again, "Oh, I'm just so sorry about the things I did to you guys before."

Hannibal waved it off, "No harm no foul, we knew you weren't quite yourself when it happened. Speaking of which, how'd they treat you at that hospital?"

"Well it was better than I thought it was going to be," she answered, "Everybody there seemed really nice."

"Of course they did, they're insane, like me!" Murdock said, "You ever see a grouchy crazy person?"

"You about to see a crazy fool go into orbit," B.A. told him, "You keep acting crazy and I'm gonna see how far I can throw you."

"Hannibal!" Murdock called as he ducked behind the colonel where it was safe.

"You know," Frankie said, "At the hospital they're very big on the idea that you're never _cured_, it's just coming to terms with what's wrong and working through it…I don't know, I think…I think I'm going to be alright now."

"That's good," Murdock said as he came out from behind Hannibal and went over to her to hug her again, "I'm very proud of you, cous."

"It's weird," she said as she pulled away from it, "Anymore it just seems like it was all a nightmare."

Murdock reached over and touched her cheek with his thumb and replied, "Or like Dracula…you look better now, you were really pale a couple months ago, you look _alive_ now, like you turned off the tap for the bloodsucker."

"I suppose in a way he was," she said, "Now that I don't ever have to worry about seeing _him_ anymore, it's like _everything's_ different now, like…"

"Like a new beginning," Hannibal noted.

Frankie nodded.

"It's been great seeing you guys again," Mad Dog told them, "Murdock, I don't know how to tell you this, but we're giving you back your airplane ring."

"How come?" Murdock asked.

Frankie held up her left hand and showed them the plain, if dull, gold band on her finger. "We got a replacement."

"Didn't cost much," Face noted.

Murdock cleared his throat and stepped on Face's foot.

"He's right," Frankie said, "It came from a second hand shop…it's good enough for us, it's a hell of an improvement over _no_ ring."

"And how about you, Mad Dog?" Murdock asked, "How's your therapy coming along?"

"Well the doctor says that it's going fine and he thinks in a few more weeks, I won't have to see him anymore," he answered, "Thanks."

"I knew that Dr. Richter would be able to find somebody to handle you two," Murdock said, "The man is a miracle worker."

B.A. scoffed and snorted and remarked, "Then how come he ain't fixed you yet, crazy man?"

"We really appreciate everything you guys went through to help us," Mad Dog told them.

"I imagine now you two are going to be famous," Murdock said.

"Notorious is more like it," Frankie replied, "Now that the story's out, everybody wants to interview us, they want us to do TV appearances, they want to make a movie out of it, it's ridiculous."

"Not a bad way to make a living though," Hannibal replied cheerfully.

"You guys will have to come and look us up sometime after we find a new house," Mad Dog said.

"Yeah, we don't have a television set yet," Frankie told Murdock, "But we got a lot of games, I got _really_ good at dominoes and Jenga in the hospital playing with all the other crazies, everything between the junkies drying out and the schizophrenics who use their dogs to cheat."

"They let dogs in the hospital?" Face asked.

"No," Frankie answered.

Hannibal and B.A. glanced at each other at that comment.

"Frankie," Hannibal spoke up, "Have you spoken to your parents yet?"

She shook her head sadly, "Not yet I haven't, I'm not ready to speak to them yet."

"You know someday you're going to have to forgive them," Hannibal told her.

She nodded, "I know…" she paused before shaking her head and telling him, "But today isn't it." She pointed to herself and Mad Dog and said, "We got three years of stuff to work through…but I alone have 13 with them, I'm going to need some more time to think about what I need to say to them."

"Well, if you need some support when the day comes, you know how to reach us," Hannibal told her.

"Thanks but…" she squeezed Mad Dog's hand and said, "I think we'll do fine by ourselves."

"Yeah, why not?" Mad Dog replied, "It'll be about time I meet my future in-laws, ooh what a reception I can just imagine _that_ being."

Hannibal smiled his trademark toothy grin that always put Face on edge, but this time it was for a good reason; it seemed to him that roles had finally reversed themselves back into their intended positions. Ever since that fateful night, Mad Dog seemed to have slipped back into the role of the older, more protective spouse, and it showed now that they were back together. No more did he seem like he'd jump at a leaf blowing and grab hold of the closest thing to him, now he looked as confident and self assured as any con Face could put on to secure whatever they needed for a mission. Now, he finally looked as though, should the situation call for it, he would be the one to step in and protect his fiancée, instead of Frankie having to do so for the both of them.

A necessary evil, that's what Murdock had said that night had been; had it been left to any of them, they would've preferred for events to have occurred differently than they had. But, looking back now, Hannibal realized that what happened _had_ to be done for justice to finally be served. As soldiers of war, they all knew too well how 'necessary evils' worked and how much they hated doing them at the time, even if it couldn't be avoided. In retrospect, he understood _why_ Frankie had taken it upon herself to confront Masterson; she'd said it in the beginning, his killing Alice Arden was personal, and it showed in how he had murdered her, and _this_ would be personal too, it was the only way justice could be done. It would mean nothing if four random strangers busted into his house and cleaned his clock, for the attack to come from somebody he knew, especially as well as he knew Frankie, that was the clencher, his own words with the man were just the icing on the cake, and both served a purpose.

"Congratulations you two," he said again, "You'll have to let us know when the big day is."

"We will," Mad Dog told him, "Thanks again."

Murdock went over to Frankie, grabbed her hands in his and half hugged her, half jumped up and down with her and said, "Congratulations, cous."

Frankie laughed and wrapped her arms around him and replied, "Thanks, cous."

Murdock pulled back and looked like a gear busted in his head when he heard her response. It went unnoticed until after Frankie and Mad Dog had left the park, and then the look on the pilot's face was quite noticeable.

"Uh oh Hannibal," B.A. said, "Looks like whatever was left of Murdock's bird brain finally flew the coop."

"No, B.A.," Hannibal responded, "He's just happy."

Face did a double take, "That's happy?"

"Sure, happy to have an actual relative again," Hannibal answered, "Something that _would_ be nice to have."

"Huh," Face snorted, "I'm already dreading the family reunions."

Hannibal went up to Murdock and clapped a hand on the pilot's shoulder to get his attention and asked him, "You alright, Captain?"

Murdock nodded, "I'm just happy for both of them…" he turned back and saw them disappearing in the sunlight and told the colonel, "They're finally free."

Hannibal patted him on the back and agreed, "They sure are."

"And I'd like to stay the same way as much as possible," Face told them, "So can we please get out of here before Decker finds us?"

"Give the man a break, Face," Hannibal told him, "He _just_ got out of the hospital for that concussion Mad Dog gave him, you think he's going to come storming after us first thing after his release?"

"Yes!" the other three men answered.

Hannibal shrugged with a facsimile innocent look on his face and responded, "Just checking."


End file.
